the Stones’.
Aaralf and Onall were sitting in the alehouse talking with members of the young boy’s family, trying to learn as much as they could about the Northern Army and its movements, when a loud cheer was suddenly raised by the slaves standing outside. It announced in emphatic style the arrival of Verastus and his group of freed slaves. The alehouse emptied in seconds as everyone raced outside to see what was happening, leaving only Ddesgin, the owner and barkeeper, left in the room.
Verastus was walking at the head of a column of twelve hundred, the slaves and soldiers in his party were all cheering loudly and they raced forward as fast as they could to greet the volunteers of Onall’s party who had lined the streets to meet them, also cheering and clapping to celebrate their collective freedom. They all began hugging and kissing like long lost friends, though few in both parties actually knew each other. Verastus’ head was hanging low and he didn’t join in the celebrations, the deaths of three of his soldiers still weighed heavily on his mind and he wasn’t in the mood for partying. He strode up to Onall and Aaralf who were standing outside the alehouse.
“Greetings my friends, how did you fare?” he asked dejectedly.
Onall looked at Aaralf, the young boy was about to respond excitedly, but he stopped himself to allow the soldier beside him to answer.
“We freed around a thousand slaves. Most have joined our cause and are resting here, or in the surrounding fields and houses. The raid went well, Jake’s plan of attack was good, we took no casualties. And you, Verastus? Did you encounter problems?” the soldier asked, picking up on his comrade’s obvious despair.
Verastus didn’t alter his facial expression as he spoke. “Our raid went well also. But we came across an enemy patrol that was heading for… Well, we had to stop it. I lost three of my men killed in the fight that followed. I think I should maybe have…”
“This is war Verastus!” interrupted Onall sharply. “We all know the risks we take on a daily basis. None of us here expects to live forever my friend, we made our peace with death long ago. We are not afraid to die, we have been fighting for far too long. If our deaths serve a higher purpose and help to restore our King to his rightful place, then we will go gladly. Now, how many slaves did you free?”
“Just short of twelve hundred I would say.” answered Verastus, humbled by Onall’s words.
“Excellent! That, my friend, is a remarkable total for the losses you report! You should be very proud of yourself. Come now, let us drink to celebrate while we await our King.” said Onall happily, placing his arm around Verastus and leading him into the alehouse.
Verastus nodded an acknowledgment. “I will join you, Onall. But I shall not drink if you do not mind? I do not have the stomach for it. I hear what you have said, and I thank you, but it is I who will see the faces of those soldiers in my dreams tonight. And I who will have to live with the choices I have made.”
* * *
In the early hours of the evening, Soreen village was a hive of excitement and activity, everyone was busy searching for lost friends or relatives, ale and wine was flowing freely, many were regaling or listening to the fantastic stories being told about their escape from the mines and the journey to the village. Some were telling of the tales they had heard on the journey of the young Keeper whose arrival and supposed deeds had struck fear into the hearts of enemy soldiers.
Suddenly, the noise in the village was interrupted by the sound of a battlehorn. Everyone looked anxiously towards the western approaches.
The sight that greeted them was like something from legend. King Artrex was riding nobly at the head of his army, his shoulders back, his chest puffed out and his head held high, with Ben riding proudly behind him. His unfurled banners were blowing majestically in the wind and the King looked for all the world like a great, conquering hero returning home.
Mass hysteria gripped the village. Emotion overcame slaves, soldiers and civilians alike. The majority of the ‘new army’ were now standing in the fields and meadows outside the village itself as the sizeable force could not be contained within its boundaries, but this did not curb their