Ravelin
Part 7
An eerie silence filled the forest. A place that should have been teeming with life felt dead. For what seemed the umpteenth time, Duncan scanned his surroundings, noting the stark absence of wildlife. The troops around him felt it, too. It was a suffocating feeling that weighed on all of them.
After nearly two days of slinking through the forest, they had met with nothing, but any doubts that Captain Muryn and the rest of the unit harbored about Duncan’s theory were evaporating quickly. None of them had ever felt anything so oppressive.
“Report,” whispered the marshal.
“The squads are in position, as usual,” replied Muryn.
Duncan looked around. “There’s nothing usual about any of this. You don’t need to be a Teivan to know there’s something wrong.”
The captain nodded. “Whereabouts do you think we are?”
Duncan took a deep breath as he considered the question. It was dawn right now, and his troops were positioned on top of three rises with deep creeks between them. They had spent the last two days alternating travel and rest every two hours in a constant push south through the uneven foothills.
“If the maps we’ve been making of the terrain are accurate, we should be roughly parallel to the spot where Marshal Wallace’s battalion was ambushed.”
“And parallel to our main force,” added Muryn.
“Right.”
The two senior officers stood near the campfire of the central rise. “It’s getting light,” said Duncan. “Let’s look around.”
Duncan and Muryn pulled binoculars from their packs. Scouts in all three attack groups were doing the same. Almost immediately, they noticed a dark shady haze in the distance rising from the forest floor.
“What is that?” wondered the captain.
The scouts saw the same thing. They all looked to their marshal for an answer. Duncan studied it for a moment longer before slowly lowering the binoculars, his gaze locked on the horizon.
“I have no idea,” he murmured.
Muryn exchanged concerned looks with the troops who were with them. “But sir, your Teivan...”
“There’s no Teivan tradition or folk tale I can think of to explain that,” replied Duncan.
They were interrupted by the echo of distant shouts. The Praetorians were momentarily distracted; apart from their own hushed conversations, these were the only sounds to be heard in the forest’s uncanny stillness.
“It’s Captain Blaine’s group — it has to be!” exclaimed one of the sergeants.
“Man your positions!” hissed the marshal. The troops around him immediately snapped their attention back to their posts. Duncan motioned angrily to the units on the other two rises. “And make sure they’re focused, too!”
Muryn immediately summoned two runners and sent them off.
“What do we do?” asked the captain.
Duncan didn’t answer immediately. He raised his binoculars again, his attention focused on the horizon. The light was growing steadily, and it was now possible to make out what seemed to be an earthen wall of some kind. The distant echoes were growing frequent.
“It’s begun,” muttered Duncan. He packed his binoculars away. “Redeploy into two groups. Muryn, take your command east and follow the top of that ridge. I’ll lead my group parallel with yours on the other side of that ravine, over there. We stay in constant sight of one another.”
“Yes, sir!”
“And Muryn — tell your squad commanders that we move with speed. Whatever that is out there, we need to reach it while the grimals are engaged with our forces on the main road. Understood?”
“What about our sappers? Do we still scan for traps?”
“No time. We’ll have to risk it.”
Muryn saluted. “See you soon, sir.”
Duncan returned it. Muryn darted off while the marshal barked commands to the troops around him. Within minutes, the group on the central rise was redistributed to the other two units.
They moved out, jogging at an easy pace.
“Weapons out!” shouted the marshal.
Both units obeyed immediately.
Ahead of them, the ravine turned sharply to the east. Duncan’s group assumed a defensive posture at the bend, lining the top with archers, while Muryn’s group stormed down the other edge of the ravine to cross to Duncan’s side. By now, the hazy earthwork they had spotted from afar was close enough to make out. It occupied what seemed to be a wide hillock that covered the entire field of view ahead of them. Duncan reached for his binoculars and took a quick look.
“That makes no sense,” he muttered. “It isn’t supposed to exist.”
It was indeed an earthen wall, but unlike most human constructions, this one looked natural, as if the forest floor had somehow bent itself upward. It didn’t look very high and it had no uniform shape — it wove around the trees and rocks that stood in its path, often incorporating them into its structure. But what struck the marshal was behind the wall. Thick, dark clumps attached to the trees, some of them very high up, with the blurs of jumping grimals moving between them. There weren’t very many, Duncan noted, but they had no way of knowing the extent of this... what was this? Duncan lowered his binoculars for a moment as he realized why his battle group had been able to move this far into the forest unmolested.
Another trap!
Duncan raised the binoculars again, and this time he focused on a lone grimal perched on top of the earthwork. It seemed to stare right back at him. It narrowed its eyes and half-opened its mouth. The marshal could practically hear the feline hiss escape its maw. Duncan was suddenly overcome with a momentary quake of fear. Dropping the binoculars, he nearly doubled over. It passed almost immediately. When he picked the binoculars up and looked back, the grimal was gone.
Muryn’s unit had finished crossing the ravine. They were now all together in one single battle group. From here, the ground sloped upward to the earthwork. Duncan was reminded of the drills they practiced regularly about storming a fortified position on an elevation, but in those drills, the defenders didn’t come at you from the treetops...
The marshal repacked his binoculars. At that moment, a horn echoed faintly from the west.
Duncan didn’t hesitate. Trap or not, it was time to finish what they’d started. Drawing his sword, he cried, “For the valor of the Keep!”
The forest reverberated with his troops’ response. They formed their battle lines and charged up the slope. Duncan looked up and saw the familiar blurs, but there were very few of them. The archery unit went to work and some of the blurs were brought down.
“They’re keeping their distance,” remarked one of his lieutenants.
“Of course,” replied Duncan. “Captain Blaine is doing her job!”
The earthwork was now directly ahead. The first infantry lines were now facing resistance, but the defenders were badly outnumbered. The grimals pulled back again. Duncan was now only a few dozen meters from the earthwork. He could see that it was barely three meters high.
Pointing at the top of the barrier, he shouted, “Get us up there!”
The sergeant closest to him ordered her squad forward to boost the marshal’s group up. The top of the earthwork was just wide enough to walk on. Duncan took the lead and he was up in an instant. Seemingly from nowhere, a grimal lunged at him, forcing him to roll backwards. His pack dug into the top of the earthwork, and when he tried to twist away from the attack he tumbled to the ground, losing his weapon. The grimal slashed at him repeatedly, and as he dodged around he loosened the pack on his back. Feigning a stab with his dagger, he unhooked one of his shoulder straps and swung the heavy pack around, catching his enemy by surprise. He knocked the grimal over and lunged forward, burying the knife in its side. When Duncan spun around to retrieve his sword, he realized that he had tumbled inside the earthwork. His guard had now jumped down to form a protective semicircle around him, but the rest of their unit was still on the other side of the earthwork.
Half a dozen grimals eyed them venomously from nearby treetops, keeping their distance. Duncan spied several more behind them, swinging heavily between the boughs with dark bundles under their arms. Squinting, Duncan caught a fleeting sight of two miniature, feline eyes staring out at him from within the bundles.
Then he understood. Two of Duncan’s guards unslung their bows, but he waved them off.
“No — fall back.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me. Fall back to the other side of the wall. Keep your guard up, but make no offensive moves.”
Taking the lead again, Duncan scrambled up the tree next to him and swung himself to the top of the earthwork. Unslinging his own bow, he held the grimals back while the rest of his squad followed him. Then he noticed that the eerie silence had descended on them again. He turned to the west — toward the road — and his heart sunk.
The forest was alive with a swarm of dark blurs, and they were moving towards them faster than Duncan thought possible.
Below him, Captain Muryn was already organizing defensive lines in a pattern they had practiced dozens of times before departing Valandov. An archery unit three lines thick pulled back on their bowstrings and let a volley fly. Half the arrows ricocheted off the pine trees, but many hit their marks. By the time the first grimal bodies hit the ground, the archers had reloaded their weapons to fire again.
Duncan reached for his binoculars before remembering that his pack was still on the forest floor inside the wall. Even without it, though, he could see that the grimals were returning in force.
Returning from the road...
He watched one grimal high in the treetops arch its back and hiss a challenge at him, but as it lunged forward it faltered, an arrow notched in its back.
“Sergeant, your scope!”
“Sir!” His squad commander handed the device over and he peered through it. The forest floor receded from the hillock all around them, but despite the uneven terrain he saw a flash of metal in the growing morning light.
“Sound the horn!”
The sergeant grabbed the horn that was slung over her shoulder and put it to her lips. It blared loudly and clearly across the forest, and it was answered quickly by a similar blast from the west.
Blaine!
The grimals reached the infantry lines, but instead of engaging them, they pulled back and scrambled southward, obeying commands only they could hear.
“They’re trying to surround us,” shouted the sergeant.
“I don’t think so,” replied Duncan. “Look.”
The grimals clung to the trees, trying to achieve adequate cover as they were pressed by Praetorian forces from two sides. By now the battle groups could see each other and they started shouting commands back and forth to coordinate their movements.
“Captain Blaine!”
“We’re here, sir! The grimms are pulling south!”
Duncan nodded. “My guard and I are on top of the earthwork. Swing your unit south in an attack formation. Three lines deep, archers ready — but do not engage. Muryn, secure the north perimeter!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Captain Lewellyn!”
“Here, sir!”
“Hold your position between Muryn and Blaine. Do not engage the enemy without my command!”
Duncan stole a quick glance toward the shelters inside the earthwork. There was no more movement. Whatever lived here was gone.
Long moments passed. As if frozen in time, the opposing grimal and Praetorian forces eyed each other warily, neither side prepared to resume hostilities.
Reaching a decision, Duncan squeezed past the corporal who was protecting his front side.
“Sir...”
“Not now, corporal.”
Duncan put a hand to his side before realizing that his sword was on the ground near his pack. Leaning his bow against the tree next to him, he drew his dagger, held it up deliberately, and placed it carefully on the ground by his feet. The marshal walked out slowly with his hands outstretched, alone and unarmed. A host of grimals watched him intently, seemingly unsure of what to do. Before long, a grimal dropped down from a tree ahead of him, landing softly on the top of the earthwork. Duncan studied it, but it was impossible to tell if this was the same one he saw through the binoculars before the battle. He stopped less than a dozen meters away, and he realized that this was the closest he had ever been to one of these feral creatures without a weapon in his hand. It crouched down, poised to strike, never taking its yellow slit-eyes off him. They stared at one another for what seemed a lifetime, though it was probably only a minute or two. Duncan felt something — an exchange of sorts. A rudimentary understanding, though he had no way to process it right now.
They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer. Then the grimal jumped back up the tree and scrambled inside the earthwork, followed by the rest of the grimals.
“Archers at the ready,” called one of the lieutenants.
“No,” barked the marshal. “Do not fire at them, do not engage them in any way! Hold your positions. Captains, to me!”
Duncan jumped down and waited a few minutes for Blaine, Lewellyn, and Muryn to join him.
“What just happened, sir?” asked Blaine.
“I’m not exactly sure,” replied Duncan.
“Is it victory?”
Duncan looked back at the retreating grimals. They all appeared to be inside the earthen wall. “A small victory — for now. Pull all our forces back to the road.”
“We have injured there,” said Lewellyn, “and dead.”
Duncan nodded. “Make camp on the road. Full defensive formations, as before. Tend to the wounded. Bury our dead along the sides of the road.”
“Sir?”
“Along the sides, Captain, with grave markers — enough for all of our fallen comrades.”
The captains nodded solemnly.
“We’ll camp for the day and resume our journey to Ravelin with all speed in the morning,” continued Duncan. “Dismissed.”
The captains saluted and headed off to disperse their units. Duncan’s guard formed around him as he headed toward the road. Descending the slope, he looked back at the grimal fortification and reflected on what he had seen behind it, wondering at the significance of what they had found today.
Stay tuned for the next chapter…
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