Darius Chapter 34

Darius forced his horse into a gallop, knowing he could be more valuable by calling for reinforcements from the Barringvale troops rather than getting in the way of the fighters. Barringvale was still a kilometer away, but already it towered above him, far more imposing than the approach to Erinstone. Whereas Erinstone was known for its dense walls and sprawling population, Barringvale was built up, using significantly less ground space, but consisting of towering chapels, soaring stacks of homes, and a magnificent castle. As he closed in on the first gate, he could see the lookouts drawing their bows, keeping a careful eye on him. How they couldn’t see the battle taking place on their doorstep was mystifying. The trees of the Great Road had been preened back from the Road near Barringvale for that exact reason – to avoid the possibility of someone sneaking in using the treetops as cover.

A woman with her arrow aimed directly at Darius’s body growled down at him.

“You shouldn’t gallop up to the gates if you know what’s good for you! State your purpose!”

Darius stared up at the arrow and woman who would decide his fate. His first interaction with Barringvale wasn’t the pleasant experience he had imagined back when he’d met Marth.

“I am a friend of Prince Ranvost – he escorted me to Erinstone. He has returned to Barringvale but has been attacked on the Great Road, just a short distance from here beyond the tree line. You must mobilize and help him!”

The soldier swayed her aim a bit, loosening the tension, but she didn’t relent just yet.

“Just beyond the trees, eh? That’s convenient if you’re an attacker, isn’t it?”

Darius could picture the devastation going on at the battlefield, and he swore he could hear the distant thump of Falsith’s axe. He didn’t have time to banter.

“Please, just send out a scout if you must. Even a kilometer away and you can see the havoc. Please! They’re all in danger.”

The woman atop the wall gave in and shouted an order to the guards below her.

“Open the gates! I want ten men to scout the Great Road – three kilometers at the most. If Prince Ranvost is in trouble, eight of you help him, two of you come back and report. William, ride to the barracks and have two platoons gear up and assemble outside the gates. Clear?”

The soldiers scurried into action, mounting their horses and bursting out of the gate as soon as it opened wide enough. Darius waited for them to blow past, then entered. He suddenly found himself with nothing to do except twiddle his thumbs and pray – perhaps religion would be a great way to pass the time.

“You there, go with William and find the platoons. The captain will have questions for you about the enemy.”

Darius was astounded by the order with which the soldiers organized themselves. The words of this woman were the law to them, and they carried out her orders without hesitation. If only he could arrange for his forges to run the same way.

He urged his horse into a slow trot, crooning to it and asking for forgiveness after running the poor thing so hard. It had barely gotten ten hours rest since leaving Karringlock. The horse lumbered up the steep streets, dragging its hoofs more so than clopping along like the pedicured steeds around them. William was ahead, weaving through the crowd on an exceptionally agile horse. It was hard to keep up with him, but it was clear where he was headed. The barracks sat on a series of ledges outside the main business district, ugly grey structures that existed solely for the function of fitting as many sweaty soldiers and their gear inside as possible.

They made their way up, Darius in tow, until William turned left at a low hedge. He followed a path to a series of cottages at the end, presumably the lodgings for the captains and the most promising of the lieutenants. The messenger finally noticed Darius when he heard the discontented puffing of a horse behind him.

“Ah, apologies, did Marlo ask you to follow me? Should’ve yelled out, old chap.”

Old chap? He looks young, but I can't be that much older! The trip to Erinstone must’ve really done a number on me.

Darius dismounted and stamped up the stairs to a hut that William chose.

“Aye, the lady, I assume Marlo, told me I might be of use to the captains. We better hurry, seriously, it didn’t look great when I left.”

“How bad? Might be worth staying inside and saving the men.”

Darius didn’t appreciate the skepticism in the boy’s voice. He had some very good friends out there, two of which he was indebted to with his life.

“Bad, but not bad enough that we should be cowards.”

William got the message and strode forward, rapping on the door. Darius decided to speed things along a bit, and turned away to the next cottage, walking up the steps and doing the same.

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Darius’s door opened first to a man around his height, but with a blazing orange beard and tortoise-shell spectacles sitting on the bridge of his nose. He spat as he spoke.

“I’ve just sat down to a book. What’re ya askin’ of me?”

“Mr... Sir, Marlo has requested you to lead a platoon out to the Great Road. Prince Ranvost is caught in a fight with the Erinians.”

The beard shook as the man flinched at Darius’s words.

“The young squealer?! Out my way, son! Grab my sword and chest plate from inside, I’ll gather my men. Ack, you shoulda yelled through the door, got me movin’ quick smart!”

He stomped down the steps and spat at tirade of insults about Erinians as he jogged the path. Shortly after, Darius heard a ruckus in one of the guardhouses as the bearded man swept through, upending tables and swiping cards out of hands, rousing his platoon. Darius searched around the cottage, looking for the armor and weapon he’d been tasked with retrieving. He assumed they would be in a convenient place, considering the captain told a complete stranger to find them, but Darius was struggling. They didn’t rest next to the smoldering fireplace; they weren’t hanging from the armor stand that was built for the exact purpose; they had vanished into thin air. He heard the stairs squeak as someone approached. William walked through the door, holding a chest plate and mace.

“I knew you’d have this issue. What village are you from? Not Erinstone, I hope.”

“Karringlock.”

“Never heard of it. But look away for a sec and hold this. Barringvale captains have their gear kept in secret alcoves only known about by military folk. Slight issue of theft, you see.”

Darius accepted the heavy gear and stepped out onto the porch. He heard clunking inside. The captain that William had roused was trundling along the path, taking his time as though he’d just woken from a nap. A yawn escaped him as the bearded captain and his platoon marched the other way up the hill, to the stables. A brave soldier called out to the portly captain still rubbing his eyes.

“Chin up, Podral! Save Prince Ranvost and you might get that promotion after all.”

Podral cast his eye over the group, silencing the hushed chuckles that murmured through the platoon. He swished his head like a horse swatting a fly, and stood at the top of the barracks, projecting his massive voice.

“Platoon Eight! All hands to the stables for immediate deployment! Light armor and desired weapons!”

Darius couldn’t imagine sitting next to the man at a party. He only hoped he didn’t get louder when he was drunk. His platoon must have respected him, however, as they burst from the barracks and formed up in line and with all their gear shining in moments. Podral led them up to the stables, and Darius latched onto William as he came out of the bearded captain’s hut with a rusted chest plate and longsword. William sighed and set the armor down on the grass next to the hedge.

“Just leave it here, they should have the sense to pick it up on their way back down. Are you going to go back out there too? I can get you a fresh horse, that one looks ancient.”

Darius had to agree. Pushing the poor thing up that final hill had really drained it. He set down Podral’s gear and took the reins, not putting more pressure on him than was required to pull the horse into a slow amble up the hill. Mounted soldiers flowed out of the stables on domineering warhorses, some of which were clad in armor on their heads and chests. Darius and William wandered into the stables, stamping through the mounds of hay and feed that had been kicked up by the horde. The stable groom stood at the rear of the stalls and held a rake in stunned silence. The hair on his head sat up in awkward angles like he’d stood amongst the horses as they rushed out. He came back to reality with a scowl.

“Those blasted soldiers don’t understand! Trot out of the stables at most! This bluddy galloping bullcrap just sends hay all over the place and who gets to clean it up? Not them, that’s for sure!”

Darius’s horse nosed at the apples in a large bin near the entrance. It seemed on edge, likely due to the foreign scent of the new stables and horses. Darius called to the stable groom.

“Ahoy, you wouldn’t happen to have a fresh horse left, would you? This one needs a boatload of apples and about a three-day sleep.”

The man looked annoyed at having to do his job. He strode up to Darius and held out his hand, palm up.

“Accreditation, please. Haven’t seen you around.”

William stepped forward and placed a badge in the man’s hand, an embroidered piece with the picture of a rearing horse.

“He’s a temporary stay, you can put me down as the borrower.”

“Temporary, huh? I’ll give you one of these half-lame ones then, just in case you canter off with ‘er.”

Darius couldn’t argue. Half-lame was about twice as useful as his current horse. It’d go like the wind.

The stable groom disappeared into a stall, saddling up and adjusting the bridle on the occupant. After he finished, he led a white-spotted brown mare to Darius.

“Treat her well, name’s Peppy.”

“Thank you, sir, and hello, Peppy”

The horse nosed at his shoulder, and he hopped up into the saddle, taking care to trot until he’d passed the clouds of hay kicked outside the entrance. William went ahead, leading back down the windy streets. The kingdom looked magnificent from this angle, like standing atop a decadent layered cake with colorful buildings sitting atop the icing. Barringvale didn’t have half the ‘industrial’ vibe that Erinstone gave off.

They made it back to the gate where Marlo was still shouting orders to the men and women scurrying around her. The platoons had just left, and before the gates shut after them, a lookout had seen the scouts returning.

Just two.

Marlo hailed them down and snaked down the ladder to the cobblestones, sprinting outside the gates to receive their report. The scouts were breathless from their whirlwind of a ride.

“We only went a kilometer and a half – you can see and hear the fight as soon as you get around the first bend! Two platoons might not be enough.”

Darius followed Marlo out and overheard the report. The scout said nothing of Marth or Falsith’s safety. He interrupted.

“Did you hear a loud booming? Like a boulder rolling off a cliff, or, or – you know.”

“Aye, ‘twas something like that. We were far off, but even from where we stopped it was like a horse kicking a hollow tree.”

That must be Falsith.

“Thanks. I’m going back.”

He kicked his fresh horse into a gallop and set off back to the battlefield.