The Killing Dreams

Rally The Men

Chapter 23

Rally the Men

From out of the night and into the torch light, came a cloaked figure waving his arms. His fatigue was obvious, for he was out of breath and stumbling along. Rips in his clothes showed the haste in which he fled, as did the bleeding cuts and scrapes on his hands and face.

"Hold!" shouted the guard on duty.

"Hold?" repeated the man, bent over with hands on knees. "We don't have time for this, Shamus. Let me through or get the Old One. Keepers in the wood are mounting an attack at dawn."

The pudgy man's eyes widened. "Why didn't you say so in the first place." He grabbed the man's arm and helped him inside. Limping, the other fellow could only glare at the watchman. "Never mind me. Just get Lazarus," he ordered.

The wizard was brought to the man promptly. "Are you sure about this?" he asked.

The man nodded. "I'm sure. The head Watch Warden said so just before giving the order to make camp." The man managed a weak smile. "Seems like your idea to send out spies paid off. They won't catch us by surprise - that's for sure.

"Indeed not," mumbled the wizard. He turned to Shamus. "Rouse all the men in the village and have them armed with whatever can be found."

After dismissing Shamus, Lazarus began to Pace about. He needed to devise a battle plan, and quick.

Groggy men began filling the village square in short order. Most were looking up at the night sky. Among them was Nigel, and at his side was his sword and belt knife. Few others were so well armed. Most held bows, slings, axes or pitchforks, but that did not matter. They were here to protect their homes, and they would do it with whatever lay close at hand.

A few paces off were the families of those who took up the call to arms, and from out of there number came two small children accompanied by Lazarus. Emery placed the step stool he had been carrying so the Old One could address the crowd while Sharee helped him up to do so.

"We will march before dawn, men. The enemy does not know we are coming. That gives us the element of surprise, a great advantage. We are not an army by any means, but we don't have to be. We have hunters that will act as our archers. With flaming arrows and hails of stone, we will set their camp a blaze and scatter their horses. If all goes as planned, they will be more of us returning home. With any luck, all of us will return. Our only other choice is to let them burn Holden for a second time. Is that what you want?"

A collective "No" answered him.

"Good on you all," he continued. "If fire does not scatter the scum, stay in tight groups. Fight back to back. Remember, the Keepers are not war-hardened warriors. They can be frightened as easily as you, so keep your nerve. Do this, and we will overcome our enemy."

A great cheer went up. Morale was swelling within the ranks. Lazarus waited till things settled down before leading them out though the palisade gate and into the wood. The band of villagers did there best not to make noise, but they were inexperanced and did not have the proper training for a silent march. Still, the band had a good leader, and under his direction they found their enemies camp. Fortunately, the Keepers had yet to dismantle their camp; a fortunate stroke of luck. Unfortunately that is where their luck ended. The fire arrows the villages shot did have an effect, just not the one they had hope for. Lazarus did his best to keep things under control, but chaos often had plans of its own. That is were Nigel found himself when the fighting reached its height (right in the thick of it.)

With horses running lose, and men pausing to engage each other, Nigel fought just to keep his witts. 'What a fool I am,' he thought. 'One fight with a Watch Warden and you think you're the stuff of heros. Ridiculous. You're going to get yourself killed.' Nigel was in no state of mind to dispute his inner thoughts. All his heroic notions for revenge seemed trivial. Staying alive was the trick now. Thankfully he had avoided combat for the most part and manage to move beyond the carnage, but that is were his luck ended, for an unseen club to the gut dropped him like a stone.