Chapter 9 : Bridge to the West

Chapter 9

Bridge to the West

A speck of light glowed on the far horizon and the once dark sky slowly turned into bronze-yellow. The wind blew fiercely, as if hailing the birth of a new day.

Lansius felt someone pushed his shoulder. “Erm...?”

“The sun is almost up,” Theo, who had slept beside Lansius, said groggily.

“A moment.” Lansius fought off his sleepiness. His body felt stiff, and his eyes were painful to open. The underside of the cart came into view, reminding him not to rise as he normally would or risk smacking his head. He rolled his body to the right instead and immediately felt the cold sensation from the dew-covered grass.

He stood up and shivered. It was his second night, but nothing had improved. They carried no tent and slept underneath their carts as cover. It was better than sleeping out in the open, but cramped, smelly, and still cold.

Lansius lazily folded a sheet of canvas that he had used as a blanket. Theo appeared from beneath the cart. He looked equally miserable. The long and bumpy ride had taken a toll on all their bodies.

The horses, certainly, had it worse. They were moodier than ever and easily agitated by everything. Lansius, who had some experience with horses, led them to a patch of tall grass and tied them to a tree, double-checking the knot.

Lansius watched as Theo and Max headed to get water from a nearby creek. A strong breeze blew past, and he shivered again despite his gambeson. He took in the scents of the forest and pondered his decision to follow Thomas.

Despite his situation, Lansius couldn’t shake off the lingering doubts and guilt about leaving Stefi. His rational mind, familiar with the horrors of a medieval town under siege, argued that escape had been the right choice. Yet, his heart disagreed, plaguing him with emotional torment.

Regardless of his internal conflict, Lansius recognized that his choices had led him here. Any chance he’d had for a life in a lord’s retinue had probably vanished along with the likely defeat of their lord and the siege of Riverstead.

“Morning,” someone said from behind.

Lansius turned to face Thomas and mustered a lively answer. “Good to see you in high spirits, Chief.”

“Heh, you’d be just as spirited if you learned about this,” Thomas teased.

“Learn what?”

“The scout said it’s only half a day’s journey till we reach the river,” the older man answered.

“We’re that close to Ceresia?” Lansius’s mood indeed lifted a bit.

“Yep, with luck, we could be there before sundown.”

“Chief, this time I hope you find a better place than that barn,” Lansius said, half joking.

Thomas laughed and slapped Lansius’s back, arguing, “Hey, it’s not that bad. It’s spacious, and the roof is solid.”

The morning went without a hitch, and the convoy departed in high spirits. As they kept riding west, the trees began to look different, taller, with less branches. The horses had to slow their pace as they traveled at a higher incline. Some carts even had their men get off and walk to ease their horses as they went uphill.

The cart Thomas commandeered wasn’t heavy enough that anybody needed to dismount. It was a slow ride; the sky was cloudy and breezy. Max found the weather so irresistible that he dozed on and off. Meanwhile, Theo stayed on the lookout. The lad was dependable despite being only a year older than Max.

Compared to them, Lansius looked fragile. Unlike Max, who could sleep in an awkward position with head unsupported and both hands gripping crates to keep himself from falling, Lansius couldn’t make himself comfortable enough to fall asleep.

Unintentionally, he counted five carts and two carriages that made up the convoy. It was less than half of when they began. Too disheartened by war-torn Arvena, many had gone south into Midlandia, whose lord was on good terms with Lord Maurice.

The convoy Lansius was in traveled the same path he had taken last winter. Nobody questioned the decision. For them, it was only natural to return to the heartland. Like many, he was eager to return home and couldn’t care less about the reason.

Since yesterday, Lansius had been dreaming of finally arriving in Bellandia and seeing his family. That thought kept him going despite the situation. Even the awful taste of the hard biscuits, which he had to soften with water just to make them edible, did little to dampen his spirits once he reminded himself that he could taste Mother Arryn’s cooking in a few weeks.

He couldn’t wait to play with Tanya and trade stories with Marc. On the surface, he felt happy, but the guilt of leaving Stefi behind was eating at him from the inside.

During the journey, Lansius kept to himself more than usual. He didn’t ask about Theo’s or Max’s background, nor did he inquire about the figure who sat next to Thomas. It was only because of their close vicinity that he overheard the boys describing her as a guard for hire, Miranda.

The older woman wasn’t much of a talker, but had once mentioned how her only son bore a resemblance to Theo. Miranda did little but maintain her prized crossbow every night, despite no apparent usage.

Despite his interest in crossbows, Lansius could not bring himself to ask about it. Not even to look at it. He simply had no appetite for anything.

Then the line of carts suddenly slowed to a stop. Everyone but Max looked around for the cause, but Thomas glanced back and raised a finger to his lips. “Listen.”

Only then did they realize they could hear the faint sound of rushing water.

“It’s the river,” Theo exclaimed.

The convoy had to wait before crossing the narrow bridge. The old wooden structure often had its support beams weakened by the current, so it had to be checked first.

While they waited, the rest of the convoy dismounted. Most went to the river to look around, fill their canteens, or wash their limbs.

Lansius and Theo saw Miranda dismount, and they decided to follow. Thomas tied the horse to a tree and jogged after them, leaving Max sleeping alone in the cart.

Even the sound of the rushing water made Lansius feel rejuvenated. The riverbank was picturesque, and the weather was lovely. Many sat on the ground or leaned back against the grass. It was a welcome respite after the rough rides of the past few days.

...

“Boss!” Max suddenly cried from behind, putting everyone on alert.

Thomas sprang into action and ran for the cart. Lansius and Theo followed, fortunate not to soak their feet. Around them, men from the other carts panicked and scrambled toward the wooded area, bringing their weapons with them.

Miranda rushed past Thomas and, in one practiced movement, vaulted onto the coachman’s seat. Her face had gone tight as she shouted, “Grab your spears and run to the trees.”

The few carts in front made a risky dash to cross the bridge, but for the rest of them, there was no choice but to run for the woods.

The smell of earth and decomposing leaves was everywhere as Lansius followed Miranda and Thomas deeper into the woods. The trees were tall but spars. It wasn’t nearly as easy to hide as he had thought.

Miranda found a hidden slope behind an old tree and signaled to take cover. “Stay away from the boulder,” she instructed.

Lansius was too breathless to think, but Theo gave a questioning look.

“Any distinct spot like a rock formation is a landmark. Don’t linger near them. The enemy will certainly look for you near there,” she explained.

“Will they be chasing us?” Lansius asked as he sat behind the tree’s giant roots.

“Calm down, lads, with luck they might just take the carts and leave us alone,” Thomas said.

That gave some sort of relief, but soon the screaming and shouting dashed their hope. It wasn’t possible to tell what was happening, but the situation wasn’t promising.

“We need eyes,” Thomas said to himself.

“I’ll go. Your old bones might not be fit for the job.” Miranda loosened her ring mail coif, put her sword and crossbow on the ground, then crawled out. She tried concealing herself while moving toward their cart.

As she moved farther away, the trees and vegetations readily hid her from sight.

Yet that did not satisfy Thomas for long. “You three, wait here. I’m going to look for another spot.”

With that, Thomas went deeper into the woods alone.

Theo looked at Lansius and Max. “Do you think we’ll be safe here?”

Lansius had no answer. Max, meanwhile, let out a loud sigh and complained, “I shouldn’t have listened. I never wanted to go to Riverstead.”

They waited in nervous silence until the sudden rustle of leaves put them on edge. Theo stepped over a thick root and slipped out to take a look.

A moment later, he turned back, relief on his face. “It’s Miranda. She’s back.”

She came dashing toward them, breathless and visibly troubled, then dropped behind the giant tree for cover. “Where’s Thomas?”

Before anyone could answer, the older man returned, sliding over the moss before crouching in front of her. “Not good,” he reported.

“What did you find?” Miranda asked.

“Signs of horsemen. They’ve cut off our escape.”

“Damn it, they also have footmen encroaching on us from the front. We’re trapped. They want hostages," Miranda said bitterly.

“Or slaves . . .” Thomas added.

“So, what should we do?” Theo asked, his young voice laden with worry.

They were trapped, with horsemen at their backs, a river to their left, and footmen blocking their path ahead. Their options were dwindling rapidly. A cold sweat formed on Lansius’s back, and his grip on his spear tightened.

Thomas was silent. He knew the grim reality: their entire convoy consisted of only thirty men, most of whom were not fighters.

Miranda pulled her leather strap necklace. It connected to a small pouch she hid behind her ringmail. She emptied the content into her palm and revealed rings, jewelry, and gold coins.

Such valuables were so unexpected that they all did a double-take. For them, the value of such treasure was beyond their ability to comprehend.

“My job is to deliver this to Alba Castle,” she began. “Sir Ian was wounded in battle. He’s in no condition to ride, and chances are he’ll get captured along with Riverstead. He wanted to send his signet ring and valuables to his son. That way, his son could either ransom him or succeed him if he perishes.”

Miranda handed two decorated silver rings to Thomas. “Return these to the knight's family and claim your reward.”

“Why are you doing this? You should do this yourself,” Thomas protested.

“Someone needs to lead them. I’ll manage somehow," Miranda answered defiantly.

“Alone? It’s too risky—”

“I can’t let these boys be taken into slavery,” Miranda insisted.

With a weary sigh, Thomas finally relented.

She went on, “The worst that can happen is that I meet my husband and son in the afterlife.”

Her words stunned everyone. Thomas, meanwhile, looked grim, as if the thought had stirred an old memory.

Wasting no more time, she pressed a jewel-encrusted brooch into Theo’s hand and an ornamented buckle into Max’s. Then she handed half the coins to Lansius. “You’re some kind of scribe. Count it.”

“Six gold coins and sixteen silver,” Lansius answered with ease.

“Good. Remember to return it to Alba Castle, or I’ll find you and turn you into target practice,” Miranda said sternly to Lansius, who was older and less naive than the boys.

Lansius nodded, fully aware that in Arvena, it would be no hard task to find the only black-haired man around.

“Thomas, get them out safely. I’ll cover you,” Miranda said as she checked her weapons.

“Best of luck, then,” Thomas said, and quietly led the trio away.

Lansius took one last glance and saw Miranda fastening her ring mail coif. When she noticed, Lansius bowed his head in respect. That simple gesture made her smile.

With haste, Thomas led the trio into a crouch among the undergrowth and tall trees, moving them across shallow slopes and behind uneven mounds for cover. Then came the sound of cracking branches and the heavy hooves of horses.

The noise drew closer. Thomas signaled for the trio to hide behind trees thick with underbrush, while he crouched alone among the shrubs. They waited nervously until a horseman in an orange-and-black surcoat came into view. He wore a skullcap helmet and ring mail, while his horse was without armor.

The horseman wound his way through the trees, clearly searching for anyone who might be hiding. His mount was restless beneath him.

“Come out, you little dirty rabbits.” The voice came from another direction, muffled by the trees.

“Evnas, keep your mouth shut,” came a distant reply in a thick northern accent.

The banter between the still unseen men drew a snort of amusement from the horseman in orange and black.

Thomas quietly pulled back from his lookout spot and whispered to the trio, “I need to draw him away. Keep the river to your right and keep walking. Find a shallow place and cross, but avoid Ceresia. The enemy will be there.”

And then, without warning, Thomas climbed out of hiding and ran in the opposite direction.

“Halt!” the horseman cried as he spotted Thomas. “I found one,” he declared to his comrades, and clenched his legs to signal the horse to speed up.

“Evnas, go assist him!” commanded the other person. But before the second rider could come, the rider in black and orange had given chase.

Meanwhile, Theo froze, but Max, who understood the situation, dragged his friend from the spot. Lansius followed without a word.

***

Thomas

The older man zigzagged between the trees as he ran, but the horseman kept his cool and trailed him from a distance. He couldn’t run and hide forever. Out of breath, Thomas slowed down. Before he stopped, instinct guided him to stand in the open instead of hiding behind the trees.

The horseman closed in with a drawn sword. The sound of hooves pounding the ground echoed through the air as he charged, intending to kill.

Thomas stood on his ground, his axe ready in his right hand. But the rider’s approach left no gap, forcing Thomas to dodge roll at the last moment into the trees.

The horseman overshot his approach, trotted his horse around, and prepared for another pass. He could afford to play this cat-and-mouse game patiently.

One more pass and then another. The horseman kept harassing his prey to provoke them into making a mistake.

Out of breath and out of tricks, Thomas’s attempt to bait the rider into a duel on foot had failed. Now, he risked meeting up with the footmen, or worse, the second horseman.

The horseman seemed to enjoy this and started another approach when a sharp, distinct sound echoed. It wasn’t loud, but the rider staggered, dropped his sword, and moved about erratically. A bolt had penetrated his ring mail through the doublet and ruptured his lung. The rider soon suffocated as his lung became filled with blood.

Thomas dragged his tired legs, then attempted to deliver the killing blow, but before he could, someone rushed in from another direction and speared the rider.

The rider cried out in pain, but was unable to retaliate. His flailing causing his horse to panic. He fell backward, hitting the ground hard as the horse galloped away. The fallen man, decked in the orange and black surcoat lay motionless, either from the fall or his fatal wound.

“Ronan,” Thomas said, recognizing the spear wielder.

“Thomas? Who fired the bolt?” Ronan asked as he pulled his spear from the dead man.

“It must have been Miranda. Where are the others?”

“Dead, tch—they even killed Ulrich . . .” Ronan’s voice was full of anger and sadness.

“The lad? But he’s no older than fourteen . . .” Thomas felt sickened.

“There’s no reason to kill him . . .” Ronan grew frustrated. “Nothing good will come from this. Better run while you still can,” he warned and walked away.

“Where you’re going?”

“Swim.”

“And lose all your gear?” Thomas asked.

Ronan turned to face him and opened his arms to signal, what else can I do?

Thomas reflected, but chose not to follow. Probably because he had no kids of his own, he wanted to save Theo and the rest.

Footsteps on his right surprised Thomas. He readied his axe, but saw Miranda and felt relieved. “Good shot.”

Miranda pulled Thomas behind a tree and forced him to crouch. “Don’t do that again!”

Thomas grinned, and boldly suggested, “Hey, let’s bait another one.”

“Are you an idiot? You’ll be dead if I can’t find a clear line of sight.” Not wanting to hear his response, she added, “The footmen are closing in. Let’s get out from here.”

Thomas seemed to remember something. He took two rings from his pouch and threw them one by one to Miranda. “Catch.”

“What are you doing?” She stared at him, unable to believe he meant to throw his life away.

“One more. For the boys,” Thomas said, and went after the second horseman.

***

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