This is the first chapter of my fantasy novel.
So far it is 66,330 words and it is eighteen chapters long.
THE NECKLACE OF ARR’LA
CHAPTER ONE
“To’mus, why do you want to be a warrior?” it was a simple question the Captain had asked.
“I dreamed of it from being a small boy.” he stood proud and tall.
“But why? Answer boy.”
“I would have become a healer if I had stayed in my village. I wanted more, Sir.”
“Well, boy… You should have stayed there. You can barely lift a sword, let alone use one. I have reports on you. None of them are good. You lack the discipline needed to be a warrior.” Captain Rob'best held up a handful of papers.
“Sir?”
“You will no longer continue with your training. It’s night watch for you, boy. Dismissed!” Captain Rob'best went back to his paperwork.
“Sir?
The Captain had no idea what it meant to To’mus, to be that warrior on horseback. To ride into his village of Wel’bon and have everyone there to welcome him home.
“You, boy, stepped out of line. You’re lucky I don’t send you back to being a foot soldier. I don’t think you’re ready to be a warrior. Our Commander has other ideas and for now you have to stay. I still gave the orders every day. I run things. You will do night watch until I tell you otherwise.”
“Sir, how am I going to become a warrior, if all I do is night watch?” To’mus felt his stomach flip at the thought.
“Silence boy. Don’t answer back. If you ever embarrass me as you did, then you will never become a warrior, I will see to it. Now GET OUT.”
To’mus left the captain’s office and returned to his barracks to get some sleep. It was going to be a long, long night.
~~~
There had been heavy rain all afternoon and it had only just stopped, when To’mus stepped out of the barracks. He passed a pile of sodden hay; it had arrived earlier that day and should have been put undercover. Someone would be in trouble for that.
To’mus climbed the stone stairs to the walkway that ran around the top of the wall of Fort Twenty-five North and looked over the ramparts to the sea below.
To’mus pulled his cape around himself to keep out the chilly damp air of the night; he began to walk back and forth along his assigned stretch of walkway.
A short time later, he thought he heard voices coming from the rocks below. No one should have been there.
The chink of metal on stone took To’mus by surprise. The grappling hook caught tightly against the wall and the rope attached to it disappeared over the edge. Other hools followed.
As To'mus turned from the wall and called out the alarm, an arrow hit him in the shoulder that was meant for his throat. He screamed as it knocked him off his feet. There was no way to stop himself from falling, he landed in the waterlogged pile of hay left below the wall.
He lay there dazed, the pain shot up and down his shoulder. His vision became cloudy and he almost passed out. To’mus lay still until his shoulder just throbbed.
He watched as other soldiers began running around, some half dressed, others still pulling on their boots.
The attackers came over the wall. They moved like shadows dressed head to toe in black. To’mus could hear them yelling, there was no longer any need for stealth. They were quick, well organized and moved as one, sweeping aside any who got in the way.
To’mus lay watching, he was unable to move.
The attacker’s opened the main gates, and let in the rest of their troops.
The slaughter had begun.
No mercy shown.
To'mus slowly staggered to his feet, his shoulder still ached and his head was spinning with the sound of the battle all around him. Someone yelled and pushed him aside. It was one of his friends. Da’tork put himself between To’mus and one of the enemy soldiers. They exchanged several blows; the enemy’s sword went right through Da’tork, he fell. To’mus picked up his friend’s discarded sword and tried to fend off the soldier. He lost his balance and fell back into the hay. He held Da’tork’s sword in front of his face. The attacker hit the sword hard and To’mus almost dropped it.
The attacker made eye contact; he had icy blue eyes the like of which To’mus had never seen and what little exposed skin he could see was pale. It was like looking into the face of a ghost.
The enemy raised his sword above his head and took hold of it with both hands; this would be a death blow. To’mus held his breath.
The look on the enemy soldier’s face was that of surprise. He looked down to his belly where the tip of a sword poked out. He crumpled to the ground as the sword was withdrawn. To’mus did not see who it was that saved his life as the throng of fighters ebbed and flowed around him.
To’mus could not think, the noise was deafening; the smell of death and dying was all around. He needed space to think; slowly he edged his way through the fighting men. Somehow he made it to the wall; he pushed himself against it and slid down into the hay. Pulling more over himself and then the body of a fallen comrade on top, it sickened To’mus to do that, but he had no choice. He lay still, listening to the screams of his fellow soldiers. To’mus stuffed a hand in his mouth to quell the sounds he could feel welling up in his throat. Tears fell in silence as he curled up into a tight ball. Fear and panic held him still, waiting for his hiding place to be discovered.
Several times attackers thrust swords or spears into the hay, never coming close to his hiding place.
To’mus expected the enemy to burn the hay with him still in it. They tried but it was so wet it only smouldered briefly.
Voices, not of those he served with, but those of the enemy. They talked quicker than the people of Gal’londi did. To’mus could not bring himself to look out in case they spotted him.
The enemy began to leave as quickly as they had arrived. They took all the horses from the fort.
Silence.
He waited as time passed. He could smell smoke and the decaying flesh of his fellow soldiers as the sun rose high into the sky.
There had been no real sound for most of the morning, before he could bring himself to move. Slowly he parted the hay and pushed the body aside.
The only things that moved were the flies. Not one animal or person was left alive but himself. The fort was now guarded by the dead.
He leaned against the wall for support as his legs shook.
How had he, To'mus from the small village of Wel’bon, survived this? Why had not one of the others?
The goddess Arr’la was looking after him. Why? What plans did she have for him?
He must somehow warn the next fort. His thoughts spilled over, both lucid and muddled.
The young To'mus looked around. Bodies lay everywhere. Some intact many with limbs or heads missing, they lay in dark congealed blood.
He recognized some as his friends. He wrenched, little came up as he had not eaten since early last evening.
It struck To'mus as strange that he had not come across any bodies of the enemy soldiers, only those of the fort. Either none had been killed or they took their dead with them.
His shoulder was throbbing. To'mus needed to remove the arrow and repair the wound as best he could. Carefully he made his way to the healer’s rooms.
Glancing into a room, he saw Captain Rob'best sitting on the floor. He had been gutted; the wound ran from his sternum to his groin. Captain Rob'best’s insides lay on the floor between his legs.
To'mus stopped for a moment in the doorway. Captain Rob'best’s hands had been pinned against a desk, with knives, exposing his upper body. He could not have defended himself. His face had been beaten and then carved with a knife. One of his eyes had been gouged out and his tongue hung outside his mouth with only a thin strand of flesh still attaching it.
He shivered, he may not have liked Captain Rob'best but this was no way to die. It was not an honourable death.
The healer had always kept his rooms organised; now they had been ransacked. To'mus found a small saw and slowly began to cut through the arrow’s wooden shaft. He gritted his teeth against the pain. Once he removed the feathered end, he knelt down in front of a wall and took a deep breath.
Closing his eyes he rammed his shoulder hard against the wall, the arrow pushed through his shoulder and out the back. It was the only way to remove the barbed arrowhead cleanly, without having to cut into his own flesh or ripping his shoulder further if he had tried to pull the barbed arrow head back through the entry wound. He fell to the floor unconscious. He lay there for some time before he opened his eyes. His shoulder throbbed. Slowly he sat up and looked at it. He pulled his shirt away from the wound. The skin around it was red and swollen. The wound was infected.
To'mus pulled himself to his feet using a heavy wooden cabinet for support. He stood shaking, still holding onto the cabinet. He found the herbs he needed to pack the wound and fight the infection, they had been scattered around the healer’s room. He knew that if the wound remained untreated, the infection would spread and he could die. He gathered as many of the herbs and salves as he could find, they would help speed the healing of his wound in the coming days. He was glad that his mother was the healer of his village; she had shown him how to heal wounds such as his. He missed her.
Salvaging what little supplies he could from the fort, To'mus stuffed them into a canvas bag and slung it over his head, so the strap rested on his good right shoulder. He used the bag as a sling to rest his injured arm. Gathering several weapons remaining after the enemy had taken all they needed, he set out on the long walk to the next fort. He wished he had a horse but they were all gone, taken by the attackers. It would take him three or four days on foot to reach his destination.
To'mus had no idea who the attackers were or where they had come from. All he knew was he had to report what had happened to this small outpost stuck out on a cliff above the rocky shoreline, many leagues from anywhere of importance. It struck him as strange that this fort had been attacked. His people were not at war with anyone.
He took one last look around as he walked to the main gate. Tears filled his eyes again. He felt guilty that he had survived, but he alone had to tell of the outrage that had befallen his fellow soldiers. Quickly he turned and left. Nature would have to take care of those that had fallen, for now, until he could get help.
~~~
Young To'mus walked the road to the next fortress, slowly, carefully watching for enemies unknown. He made a fireless camp in the trees that lined the road on his first night. He slept little, as his shoulder ached. Any sound made him jump. He continued on his way a first light.
The second night he slept for a while long. His shoulder did not hurt as much as it had. The herbs were doing their job. The third night as he made camp, he could see the sky was red above the trees. The sun had already set. This was not good. The soldier looked out along the road. Yes, it was in the direction of the fort he was heading for. He felt sick. He was too late.
~~~
Midmorning, the To'mus entered the gates of the fortress. It was bigger than the one he had left only a few days before. It was the same basic layout as most of the forts of this kingdom.
Bodies lay where they had fallen, smoke drifted from smouldering buildings. The young soldier stood quietly in the gateway. There was nothing more he could do; it looked very like his fort with the dead everywhere.
“Boy… boy over here!” a voice croaked.
To'mus looked around. A hand moved in a pile of bodies.
“Sir, sir.” To'mus pulled and pushed the dead aside, until he found the man that belonged to the voice.
“Boy… you one of us?” he asked.
“Yes, I am from Fort Twenty-Five North.”
“Are… Are they coming to… to help?”
“No, like this fort we were hit. I managed to survive. No one else did. I am alone.” answered the younger man
“Take what you need… You… you must get to… to Fort Twenty-Three… There are horses… in the fields… Could have missed… Could be there still!” The man was badly wounded. The young soldier knew this officer would not live out the day.
“I am To'mus, Warrior in Training.” the young soldier proudly told the officer.
The officer smiled, briefly. The boy was young and in the middle of all this, he still kept his head.
“I… I know I’m dying… You must move swiftly… Whoever they are, they… they kill all, then move on. They are good at it… You must warn many... Any farms, villages… Word must be spread...”
“Where did they come from?” To'mus asked.
“Boy, I know as much as you… Their uniforms ...I… I did not recognize… They came out of the night… It was quick…” his breaths were shallow and brief as he spoke. The officer’s eyelids flickered and closed. He just stopped breathing.
To'mus took a deep breath. Tears filled his eyes. He was alone again. Slowly he stood. His hands began to shake. He looked down at them; yes, everything was in his hands now.
Horses, he had to find them. They were his lifeline; he would have a better chance of surviving and covering the ground between forts.
~~~
To'mus found the horses in a field not far from the fort.
He spent some time trying to round them up. In the end, he caught three horses out of the small herd by using food to bribe them to come closer.
He led the horses back to the fort, where he salvaged saddles and harnesses for each of them. Gathering as much food, water, weapons and anything else he thought he might use, To'mus secured everything to his mounts.
It was late afternoon, when To'mus set out for Fort Twenty-Three North. He intended to travel well into the night. To catch up with the enemy, hopefully over take them and arrive at the next fort before them.
~~~
At sun down, To'mus turned off the main road and took a hunting trail that led into the forest. He could see flickering lights through the trees, voices sang and laughed.
To'mus felt sick. He dismounted, moving slowly he led his horse’s away form the enemy camp and deeper into the forest. So far, he had gotten away with it. No one had noticed him; he would have time to put as much distance between himself and the enemy, if they didn’t break camp until sunup.
He was sure that there was a village close to Fort Twenty-Three North; if it was on this side of the fort then he had to warn them of what was to come.
The enemy’s camp receded as he picked his way along the trail; trying to make as little noise as possible.
No enemy guards had stepped out of the trees to challenge To'mus. Now all he could hear were the night sounds of the forest, he relaxed, but only a little. The horses plodded on.
~~~
To'mus could not remember falling asleep, but he must have. He woke up with a start as he hit the ground hard. The horse he had been riding looked down at him.
The horse nodded its head and took a few steps forward. To'mus grabbed the reins.
“No you don’t. Alright I’ll walk a bit.” To'mus held the reins as he began to walk. The horse stopped and pulled back.
“Alright, I get it you want to stop. We should rest awhile.” he sat down on a large rock, how long had it been since he had slept in a bed! How long was it since he had had a good sleep? He rubbed his face and looked up at the horse. It snorted.
“I know you’re tired too. We must get to the village and fort before the others do.” he sat for a while longer; it was nice to sit still and rest. Slowly he got to his feet; his legs were starting to stiffen up. “It’s time to go!”
To'mus wearily mounted his horse.
To'mus made his way through the forest using the hunting trails. It was a longer way to go but safer. He hoped that the enemy army would be travelling slower than he was. They were in no hurry, no one else alive knew about them but him. They were making camp where To'mus continued to travel.
~~~
To'mus watched the village for a while. There were no enemy soldiers, only the villagers. To'mus left the tree line and entered the village. He looked for the village Elders.
He found them at a meeting in the council hut.
“I am To'mus, Warrior in Training. I have bad news. An enemy army is on its way here. I am the only survivor; I came from Fort Twenty-Five North. I tried to warn Fort Twenty-Four North but the enemy got there before me. No one survived. We must flee this village and warn the next fort of the army’s approach.”
“Boy, we are no threat to an army!” the male Elder laugh, “What army? We are not at war! Be away with you.”
“We will not leave our homes. Go and warn the fort if you must. We are staying here.” the female Elder said as she shook her walking stick at him.
“You do not understand.” To'mus tried to make them listen to him.
“No boy, you do not understand. We will not leave. Now go.” the male Elder raised his voice.
To'mus left the hut. He talked to many villagers, all told him to leave, no one believed him.
He watered and fed the horses. Then he was on his way.
He was some time out of the village, when he looked back. Thick black smoke drifted above the trees.
To'mus closed his eyes and shook his head.
They believed him now.
~~~
The fort was insight. It was one of the larger and more impressive fortresses. The gates were open and he rode inside. No one challenged him. There was no reason to.
“Sir, I am To'mus, Warrior in Training, form Fort Twenty-Five North. My fort was attacked, as was Fort Twenty-Four. I alone survived. The village not far from here, I told them this and told them to flee. They heeded me not. Sir, you must close the gates and send word out to any villages nearby.”
“You think they will attack us. We have more troops than both the other forts put together. To'mus, go get some food and rest. Leave this matter to me.” the commander smiled.
“Sir, they attacked both forts at night. They have just attacked the village in daylight. I don’t know how many men they have. I did not want to get too close, for fear of being caught. I had to warn you.”
“You have done so. Now go and rest.”
“Yes, Sir.” To'mus left the office and made his way back to the stable where he had left his horses. The horses had been unsaddled and now the stable lad was grooming them. One of them looked up and snorted, nodding its head at To'mus. Rubbing the horse between the ears, To'mus whispered in its ear.
“I think we should leave this place. They don’t believe me.” To'mus knew there would little time to rest. He left the stable. He had not changed his uniform since before the first attack. It would take time to clean it, that sort of time he knew he did not have. He had scavenged a little money from both forts. He would put it to good use now.
This fort had a large civilian population; some of them ran a number of stores within the walls. Several stores on the edge of the small market place sold most things a traveller would need for a long journey.
To'mus bought civilian clothes and tack for the horses. He did not want to look like a soldier.
To'mus found the washrooms. Once he was clean and fed, he retrieved his three horses, saddled the one he had ridden into the fort. The other two he fitted out as packhorses. With his supplies firmly attached, it was time to leave. The gates to the fort were still wide open. No one believed him. Could it be that he looked younger than his age? It made no difference to him. He knew this fort would be over run, maybe tonight or tomorrow. He could not take any more of this slaughter.
He would warn people he met on the way of what was coming.
From the fort, you could still see the smoke form the village. Why had no one gone to check it out?
To'mus looked back at the fort.
Business as usual. The fort was just as he had found it. He was shocked.
The signs were there, in the sky for all to see, the smoke and now the carrion birds circled above the village. Were these people blind?
He left.
He was now a deserter and on the run from his army and the unknown enemy. All he had was on the three horses.
Where would he go?
Home seemed the only place to go and if the enemy continued as they had, then eventually they would reach his village of Wel’bon. He had to warn them, to get his family away before it was too late.
“Come on boy. We have to go, to leave these people to their fate. May Arr’la protect them.” To'mus said to his horse.
They picked up the pace as they headed south on the main coastal road that spanned the whole of the kingdom.
To'mus had followed this route north, four seasons ago. His journey had taken over two and a half moon cycles to complete. He hoped it would take less time to make it home now that he travelled alone. The army that he had travelled with before always took the pace of the slowest wagon or rider.
It was autumn; To'mus knew he had to move swiftly to beat the bad weather of winter. The coastal road was very exposed to the elements.
There were tails of riders being blown off the road into the sea below. To'mus looked over to his left, the edge of the road hung there in space, the sea stretched out beyond, grey and uninviting. It was a long way down.
To'mus pulled his cloak around him. It would be a long journey, could he do it alone?
