Chapitre 55: The Missing Caravans 8
The single explosion, the sound of a fireburst compressed and then let loose, lifted the heads of those imprisoned in stone-hewn cells within the Groaning Cliff.
The subsequent commotion made people stand and crowd along the sorcery-raised doors with slits in them for food. In one particular cell, people also crowded along the single opening to the outside discovered by accident, a crack in the outer wall large enough to fit an arm.
It was from this crack that the Genlet youth were flashing such a poem in the bright blushing afternoon, using a mirror from the hand of one of the rich ladies there, to increase the chance that someone could help them escape. A futile hope, really, that only worked because the combined search party made such a risky gamble themselves by going through a little used path.
Natanel lifted his head from the ground, slowly standing. "Army shock entry tactics," he wheezed out.
He had heard the mage division Fireburst Shock tactic so many times in the past, he could not be mistaken. The first step to the shock and awe preference the mage division of the armies preferred. At this point, they were probably sending summon-beasts to wreak havoc among the enemy ranks.
His lips thinned.
It would not be so useful against veterans of the imperial army.
The strength of the fireburst wave rumbled through the ground under him, a small earthquake. It was something that both revitalized and was dreaded by soldiers on the battlefield.
"Sir," light footsteps sounded close to him. "You must not move or you will not recover."
"No time," he said, still painfully pushing himself up. A hand went under his arm, another at his back. "Must be ready. People are coming."
Whether from one side or the other, he needed to be on his feet.
In this cell, there were only three of them. And the last of them was unconscious, wheezing alarmingly shallow breaths in her sleep.
Damn that Zises to the lightless dark.
No true imperial officer would have fallen so far.
He glanced at the pale but determined face of the fifteen-year old holding him up, despite the boy's words of protest at his moving. "Can you wake her?"
"I shall, sir." The boy stepped away.
Natan walked tensely to the door, taking cautious and slow steps on bare feet.
"What's happening?" came from one of the other cells, nearly snatching the words from his mouth.
The cells did not have guards, only patrols passing by.
The last patrol, it was scheduled for a half-hour from now. But there were leisurely footsteps coming down the corridor.
The doors crumbled to dust.
He stared in surprise at the people from the cell opposite, who stared back in equal shock. Their already wan faces tinged with blue in the sigil-card torchlight, making them look like living dead from the stories.
These were officers and former officers.
Two of the people got to their feet at the sight of him, retired officers from the Lowpool. "Sir!"
A brief smile flickered into being on his face at the restrained horror and anger in their tone. Did he look so terrible? But he was happy to see them.
Had it only been a day?
It felt longer since then.
But he could not deny that only one night had passed.
He noticed that only a quarter of the filled cells had been opened. His lips thinned. The people holding them had only freed those who were useful as hostages.
"Come out," said a cold voice, devoid of emotion. "You will be joining my men outside. Be grateful that you will see the sun again."
The faces of all the soldiers darkened.
But they obeyed.
He heard a shuffling behind him, turned to see the recently promoted Reisei Larion, who he had served with once long ago on a rather harrowing trip to Elaron Isle, with an arm around the boy whom it was her assignment to guard, introduced as Coren zi Grem, the son of some high noble or other.
Wasn't just the families of dukes and marquises that used the 'zi'? The 'av' wasn't used anymore wasn't it?
Natan couldn't be bothered to remember correctly at the moment.
He took a few steps back to lift his old comrade's other arm around his own shoulders.
They joined the reluctant trickle of prisoners making their way between vigilant and heavily armed lines of guards. There were only twelve people in total, the highest ranks of soldiers and merchants in the group. And the noble boy.
Twelve out of the sixty that were prisoners. Apart from him and the two retired soldiers, this was the group more likely to pay a ransom or other exchange.
Cold eyes swept over the three of them. "Leave her."
"No."
He and the boy glanced at each other, from the twin denial that sounded in their voices.
"She is a respected officer of the imperial army," said Natan evenly. The man before him had the name Laro, he'd learned.
Laro's cold eyes tightened. An arm swept out, vicious and swift.
Natan, even rolling with the blow, fell to his knees.
"Stop." The boy ordered, imperious even supporting the weight of a person larger than him.
The enemy did not even look at him, contemplated Natan.
"Natanel of the Shield, former captain of the 3rd armored company of the 37th Division of the great imperial army, kneeling before me. The fool who disobeyed orders to save his men and yet, even acquiring the objective, was kicked out of the army callously, stripped of all rank and rewards. The sanctimonious man who never thought of politics until, like a viper ignored, it turned on him. At the very last, have you learned what it means to be under another?"
There was a silence in the cave.
Unceremoniously, it was broken.
"Is this a confession?"
The question rang clear and echoed in the enclosed space, earnest and honestly curious.
"I wasn't aware the imperial dog was into such things, but I shall of course respect his choices. We can come back later."
Natan tried very hard not to burst into laughter or drop his head into his hands. There was only one person who called him 'imperial dog'.
The rebel witch.
What in Chelua was she saying with her filthy mouth?
He could not even look at the faces of the people around him.
Laro, of the security company Gamber Blades, supported by the province of Havare which the Lowpool was a part of, turned to where another tunnel made a corridor into the small cave.
Several people stood there, looking at them inquisitively.
There was blood on their blades.
Laro's voice did not change. "Kill them."
The guards surged toward the intruders.
Natan shook his head, getting to his feet. He could clearly see Emra's grin suddenly slash across her face, her eyes brighten at the sight of a dozen guards rushing in her direction, the crazy woman.
"Thank you for the invitation," she chirped. "I think I'll stay a bit longer."
Then she and her companions stepped back into the corridor.
Laro's gaze settled back on Natan.
"Is this the extent of your resources? Cowards and fools? You have fallen this far. There is nothing else for you to do but crawl on your belly and beg me for your life."
There was a slight cough.
Natanel glanced at the boy, who leaned toward him. The barely-visible smirk was the only imperfection in his serious manner and earnest gaze. "I can help you with deterring vulgarly unwanted advances, if you wish."
This brat…
Laro's lips twisted. His arm swept out to backhand the boy at the insult.
It did not reach its destination.
Reisei, even swaying on her feet, stared at Laro with an eye that clearly wished him death and dismemberment.
"You." Laro's lips twisted in disgust.
The familiar voice rang out again. "Oi, you imperial dog, is this woman trying to get in the way of the passionate love between comrades?"
Emra, the former rebel, leaned casually against the wall of the corridor, looking giddy, two blooded swords in her hands.
She was alone.
Another set of guards detached from the lines with a murderous glance from Laro.
Reisei hacked up blood in an amused cough that wasn't at all amusing to the rest of them. Coren moved closer in concern.
Natan glanced around. The guards surrounding them were halved.
But even then…he could see the frustration in the eyes of soldiers both former and current. Even in the eyes of the merchants.
Apart from three, the others had been in this place for two days, possibly three or more.
They had not been fed.
Natan and the more recent captures had been beaten too severely to be of use, mirroring the treatment of the others on their first day.
They could not win against Laro and twelve guards.
Reisei grinned at the expressionless leader of the enemy group. "Wanna bet they won't come back either?"
Cold, cold eyes narrowed. His response was immediate, his blade rasped against the metal lip of its sheath.
Natan's eyes widened and he lunged before Reisei. He had been her captain then, on that single long-ago mission, and she his vice-captain.
How could he allow her to die here?
But before Laro's sword reached him, one of the guards, dressed in similar colors to Laro and his cohort, blocked the strike, sword against sword.
"What are you doing?" came the chilling query. Laro glared down the betraying guard.
"One must attain balance in life," was the answer, from under the guard helmet.
Natan's lips twitched. That voice was familiar.
"What?" Laro narrowed his eyes.
"Love is no exception," continued the betraying guard calmly. "If love is too heated, you drive away your lovers. If love is too cold, you drive them into the arms of others. Those who are without passion, must then accept the second gracefully. There is no need to kill because of it."
Laro stilled at the beginning of the explanation.
Power flared, cold and dominant. "You dare?"
Whether the question was from shock that someone was lecturing him on courtship or fury that one dared mock him so openly, Natan could not tell.
It was likely both. In addition to the fact that his men had obviously been infiltrated and he hadn't noticed.
A burst of Shade and the person wearing guard's armor smashed into the tunnel wall.
Natan lurched forward involuntarily, worry flashing across his face. Defi!
Natan had spoken at length with the young man, after the smuggler invasion. He recognized the voice.
He pushed himself to get to the boy despite the pain of the injuries.
It was in vain.
Laro was faster.
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone