Adan opened his eyes and saw Kian look up at Arfon as the older warrior stood watching them.

“Thank you, Arfon.” Kian said between breaths.

Arfon nodded without a word.

“Are there any left?” Fin’s voice rang out nearby.

”No,” Arfon called back. “At least not here.”

The sound of shouts and the ring of metal met their ears from further up the line.

“Should we go help them,” Fin said.

“No, we need to hold our position,” Arfon replied. “Guard this area and make sure no one gets past us. Hopefully they can do the same.”

As Arfon spoke, he began stomping out the torches that the Undelman warriors had dropped in their flight.

Adan sat up, ignoring the pain in his head, leg, shoulder, and ribs. He threw an arm over Kian’s shoulder and slowly got to his feet. His leg stung and his head swam, but he was able to stand and take a few steps with Kian’s help.

“Just guide me to a tree I can lean against,” Adan said.

Kian did so, helping Adan to the pine trunk he had hidden behind. Adan leaned against and tree, putting his weight on his good leg.

Once the Arfon had extinguished the torches, he retrieved Adan’s sword from the Undelman he had killed and handed it to him.

“Might want to try and keep hold of that next time,” the older warrior said, before moving back toward his original position.

Kian cut a strip of cloth from his tunic and bound Adan’s leg.

“It doesn’t look very deep,” Kian said.

“Deep enough to hurt when I try to walk,” Adan replied.

Once Kian finished, he stood beside Adan and they both turned east to await another attack. The sounds of the fighting further up the line died away, and they were left again in silent moonlight.

Adans pounding heart began to slow down again, and the rhythm of his breathing returned to normal. He kept his sword unsheathed, partly due to the blood that now coated the curved blade, but also to force himself to remain alert. With the immediate danger gone, Adan felt exhaustion creeping into him. He longed to lay down and rest his leg and head, but he knew he had to ignore the pain as best he could.

After a long wait, they heard the sound of footsteps walking back down the line near Fin.

“How fare the warriors at this end?” Corthenu’s voice carried through the trees.

”Still alive,” Fin replied. “Unlike our enemies.”

“Good.”

Adan could make out the village leader’s bare shoulders in the moonlight as he approached Fin.

“It seems none have escaped us yet,” Corthenu said, loud enough for all to hear. “We will begin our approach to the city now.”

“I know the way!” Hammund shouted from the end of the line. “I can guide them.”

Corthenu nodded. “Then do so, and I will see to it that the rest of the men at the far end don’t pass the fortress on the north side. But stay alert! There may still be Undelmans in between us and New Esta.”

The leader turned and began making his way back up the line.

“Shall we?” Kian said.

Adan nodded and put his arm around Kian’s shoulders again for support.

Then together, they began hobbling forward, picking their way past fallen logs and patches of thick underbrush.

After crossing three hundred paces, Arfon and Hammund’s path began to converge on Adan and Kian’s. They steadily drew closer as they all walked toward the city. After another five hundred paces, they were nearly side by side.

“We’re indebted to you,” Kian said to Arfon. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

Arfon glanced at Kian before replying. “From the Vankull.”

Adan and Kian nearly stopped walking to look at the old man.

The Vankull Warriors? Arfon was one of them? That would certainly explain his incredible speed and strength in battle. The Vankull Warriors were once the most feared and respected group of warriors in Esta. Although they had been mercenaries, they never allowed their unique skills to be employed by wicked men for immoral purposes.

“The Vankull?” Adan said. “You’re a Vankull Warrior?”

“Not anymore,” Arfon replied.

“I thought your kind were all killed by northern raiders before we were born,” Kian said.

”Arfon may still be alive,” the older man replied, “but the Vankull Warriors are dead.”

Kian helped Adan walk around the upturned roots of a fallen tree. The movement brought them closer to Arfon. “What do you mean?”

“The Vankull wasn’t a group of men who knew how to fight. We existed as a unit, many parts that made a complete whole. Only when we were joined together as brothers in combat were we truly the Vankull. One man alone, no matter how skilled, is no Vankull warrior.”

“So you alone survived?” Kian asked.

“No. There was one other.”

“Where is he?”

”He is now the commander of the armies of Undelma. Commander Hugo.”

This time Adan and Kian did stop. They looked at Arfon with shock.

“You knew Hugo?” Adan asked.

The older man nodded and continued walking forward.

Adan and Kian exchanged a surprised look before hurrying to catch up.

“So Hugo was a Vankull Warrior as well?” Kian asked.

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“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?” Arfon replied.

“What happened?” Kian pressed, stepping over a fallen log.

“What happened when?”

“In the north, with the raiders.”

Arfon cursed. “Raiders. Such an empty word. It says so little about them. They’re not just raiders. They’re animals.”

The old man was silent for a time.

They had neither seen nor heard any sign of Undelmans in the forest ahead of them, but they remained alert as they trudged through the forest. Daggers of pain shot up Adan’s leg every time he put any weight on it. He longed to stop and rest, but he knew he shouldn’t. He concentrated on the thought of a bed in the citadel where he could finally rest when they returned.

Arfron took a deep breath before continuing. “Hugo was among a number of men taken captive by the Collvei raiders when we were attacked,” Arfon said. “I was horribly wounded and left for dead. When I managed to make my way south, I thought I was the only survivor. For twenty years, I believed all my brothers to be dead. And then, less than a week ago, Hugo led an attack against the Othelli village and I discovered I was not the only survivor.”

”Do you think he might still have some loyalty to you?” Kian asked.

“I don’t,” Arfon said. “And if I did, it wouldn’t matter.”

”Why not?”

“Because he killed my whole family when he attacked the Othelli. My son, his wife and their little children were all slaughtered by Hugo and his men.”

Adan could almost feel the rage and hatred emanating from the old warrior.

“He escaped me once before. He won’t succeed again.”

“We’re nearly back,” Hammund said, walking on Arfon’s right.

Their path through the forest began to lead them up a gradual slope. The rise of the forest floor in front of them indicated that they were drawing near to the city. They soon reached the ridge that looked down into the basin where New Esta sat.

By unspoken consent they all paused at the top of the ridge, trying to determine the state of affairs in the city.

Adan could see the main gate standing open by the light of the moon above and many figures walking near the gatehouse. He could hear no clamor of battle or skirmish below. All seemed eerily silent.

Adan looked left and saw the rest of the Othelli warriors emerge from the trees in a long line next to each other. Adan saw others with similar wounds to his, and two other men who needed help walking, but no one seemed to be missing.

Good, he thought. The others survived.

They all stopped and watched New Esta until they were satisfied that all was well. The warriors at the treeline began to slowly make their way down the hill toward the gate, grouping together as they converged on the entrance to the city.

“They’re back!” A voice shouted from the gatehouse once the troop had been spotted.

“Corthenu? Kian?” Adan heard the voice of Governor Fagus. “How did your men fare?”

”We lost no one,” Corthenu called back, “and none of the Undelman’s passed our line.”

A cheer went up from the gatehouse, a shout of victory and relief. As they passed through the open gate and into the city, they were met with cries of acclamation from the waiting men.

“Praise the Othelli Warriors!” “Hooray for Lord Kian and Adan Callanson!” “Death to Undelmans!” “Death to the followers of Sithril!”

Adan was surprised to hear Kian curse next to him. He looked over at Kian and saw him staring at the ground.

“What happened here?” Kian said, anger filling his voice.

As the cheers and shouts slowly died away, Adan looked down and nearly froze in horror.

The floor of the gatehouse was littered with the bodies. The mangled corpses of Undelman and Estan warriors covered the earth, but the vast majority of the bodies in the gatehouse belonged to Estan men.

“We did not fare so well here at the gate,” Fagus said. His face looked haunted by what he had seen. “They refused to surrender and took many of our own men with them.”

Adan tried to count the Estan bodies in the gatehouse, but the warriors crowding them made it difficult to see them all.

At least twenty men here, he guessed.

Corthenu surveyed the carnage and Adan saw anger on his dark face. He stormed through the gatehouse and the crowd parted as he entered the city. The others followed him, including Adan and Kian.

“Our plan was to ambush them as soon as the last of them passed under the gate, but a group of men attacked early.”

Corthenu looked at the village leader. “What do you mean they attacked early? Why?”

”There was supposed to be a signal, but they didn’t wait for it, or they thought they saw it when they didn’t.”

Corthenu snorted and turned away. “Or they lost their nerve.”

As they left the gate, they found more bodies strewn about in front of the gatehouse, laying on the road to the citadel, or in the tall grass surrounding the area. The vast majority of the dead laying outside the gatehouse were Undelmans, but many Estan warriors lay prone in the earth, too many.

Adan saw a heavy concentration of corpses lay a hundred paces from the gatehouse with arrows jutting out of their silent forms.

”We were eventually able to surround them and the hunters fired volleys into the center of their ranks,” Fagus’s voice quivered as he spoke. “We would have lost many more if not for them.”

“This is what comes of allowing the enemy into our fortress and sending the best warriors away from the thickest fighting,” the voice of the Chief Bard could be heard approaching.

Hurst came to stand in front of the Corthenu and crossed his arms.

“This is what comes of not training your people for war and combat,” Corthenu countered. “I cannot be responsible for the incompetence of other warriors. I am responsible for my men, of whom I haven't lost a single one.”

”This was your plan,” Hurst replied. “We took your advice, and look what happened.” He gestured to the bodies of Estan warriors whose blood soaked the road. “

”You agreed to the plan,” Fagus said, “same as I. We all agreed.”

Hurst rolled his eyes. ”I agreed, because I knew I couldn’t change your minds if I tried. You were determined before I could even have a say.”

Corthenu glared at Hurst. “Forgive me for daring to make a decision without first consulting your infinite wisdom, bard. The next time I need to relieve myself, I’ll ask you where I should do it.”

Adan felt Kian let out an exhausted sigh next to him.

“I am the Chief Bard!” Hurst nearly roared. “We’re all in this mess precisely because someone chose to ignore my advice.”

”Silence!” Kian shouted, with all the authority and gravitas of a king. Hurst and Corthenu nearly jumped and all eyes turned to him.

“Are we so surprised that men died tonight? We were attacked and there was a battle. There will be many more battles to come, and many if not all of us will die. We are in a desperate plight and fighting impossible odds. It’s a miracle more men didn’t die tonight.”

Kian stood hunched with Adans arm slung over his shoulders, meeting the eyes of every man watching as he spoke.

“If not for the actions of Corthenu’s men, and Adan here, I would certainly be dead, and Undelman warriors would have escaped to tell Hugo about our hiding place. If not for the accuracy of our hunters, and the courage of the men who lay slain at our feet, we would have been discovered and destroyed. Shall we dishonor their sacrifice by bickering and placing blame when we should be seeing to their burial, and thanking the Maker for our success?”

No one answered. No one could.

“The enemy killed these men. Not us. Blame them. Blame Hugo. Don’t blame each other.”

Without another word, Kian strode forward, pulling Adan with him. He passed through the group of men and they parted to make way for him.

“Yes,” Fagus said. “Let us honor our dead.”

As Kian and Adan traveled the corpse ridden road toward the citadel, Adan saw a large group of people coming to meet them. The women, children, and elderly of New Esta had left the safety of the citadel and were making their way to the gate to discover if their loved ones had survived.

One of the women recognized the figure of a man laying face up with his throat cut. She ran to his body and knelt beside him, not making a sound for a moment.

“Momma?” A little boy’s voice could be heard as he ran up behind his mother.

The woman gave a wail of anguish, wrapping her arms around her husband's body. The boy stopped when he heard her cry, staring in disbelief.

Adan felt tears in his eyes as they passed the widowed woman and her now fatherless son. He knew exactly how that boy felt, and the memory of his own grief pierced his heart. More cries of grief filled the night air as more of the women and children recognized loved ones among the dead.

“Adan!” Layla’s voice cut through the cacophony.

Adan looked up to see her running toward them, but she stopped when she saw his face.

“What happened?” She asked.

“Nothing too serious,” Adan replied, realizing that he still had blood trails running down his face. ”I was struck in the face. That and a cut on the leg. I’ll recover.”

Layla sighed with relief before moving to help him inside.

Supported on either side by Kian and Layla, Adan walked to the citadel as the sound of mourning filled the fortress.