Sauragia

Chapter 29

Astron watched the Saltrak go with a sigh of relief. Others around him were overjoyed at their foes’ departure, a few delivering some parting taunts to the retreating enemy. Looking around, however, he saw less reason to be joyful this time.

Saurahaller dead and wounded were strewn about the walltop in between the many fallen Saltrak. Friends and family looked after their injured fellows as the more severely wounded were moved to the kirk. Rob approached in high spirits.

“Well, we’ve done it again, old chap,” he said, throwing a glance at the retreating raiders. “Look at them run, the scalawags. Really put the scare into that lot, didn’t we?”

“Yes,” said Astron, again remaining reserved. “But it cost us more dearly.” He indicated the casualties all around them. “And Edward still has more than enough troops to crush us if he really puts his mind to it.”

“I know, I know,” said Rob. “But he had a much bigger army when this day began, didn’t he? And as for the wounded, they’ll recover soon enough. They’re Cardoliners after all, old lad. We’re tough.”

Astron actually smiled at his friend’s boundless optimism.

“I’m sure you’re right, Rob. I just hope we don’t lose more in the meantime.”

“That’s not the half of it,” said Alfred, striding up with a grim expression on his face.

“What do you mean, Alf?” asked Astron. “What’s happened?”

“It’s Sergeant Browne. He’s been hit.”

“What, by an arrow?” spoke a concerned Rob. “Is it serious?”

Alfred nodded. “Fatal. Captain Humphreys is with him right now. You’d better come quick.”

Rob and Astron regarded each other with mutual shock and sorrow, then followed after him. They strode quickly across the west wall in order to reach the north, passing a number of dead and wounded along the way. Astron could not believe it: Sergeant Browne mortally wounded. He had grown rather fond of the Allington officer in the weeks that he had been here, and the thought of him dying now was unthinkable to the young Alvarosaurus.

Passing through the northwest wall tower, the three came upon a small cluster of dinosaurs gathered around a pair of officers beside the battlement. One of them sat up wearily against it. The other knelt beside him with a comforting arm around his shoulder while holding a compress to the side of his neck. Most of the soldiers present were from Allington, and did their best to blink back the tears that were forming for their wounded commander. Rob, Astron, and Alfred squeezed in beside them to watch the sad scene.

Sergeant Browne was breathing heavily and having a hard time keeping his eyes open. It was evident that the wound on his neck was not that serious, and that the wound in his ribs had been the deadly hit. The arrow had been removed and a large wad of now red gauze had been stuffed in to seal it off, but it was quite apparent that there would be no saving Sergeant Browne. Astron felt the place on his arm where the arrow had grazed him and realized how lucky he was.

The downed officer glanced at Captain Humphreys, with whom he had been quietly chatting for a minute or so.

“Really, Humphreys,” he said weakly between breaths. “You do fuss like a mother hen.”

“I’m sorry, old boy,” said Humphreys, fighting back tears himself. “Just wishing it had gone differently, you know.”

“I know, old friend. Never you mind.” He looked then to one of the soldiers. “You there, lad. What’s your name?”

“Cerdic, sir,” replied the soldier.

“Well, young Cerdic, I would like you…to help the captain bear me to my resting place. Could you do that for me?”

“Aye, sir,” Cerdic sniffed.

“Good.” He again turned to Humphreys. “Cheer up, Hubert. Take good care of yourself. And if you should see Richard and Quintilius, give them my regards, would you?”

“I certainly will, Gregory,” said Humphreys.

Sergeant Browne opened his eyes just enough to look one last time upon his friend. Then, with a final shallow sigh, he closed them for good and lay still. Several of the Allington soldiers broke down and wept unashamedly then. Some of them had served with their sergeant for a very long time, and knew him like a brother, or even a father. Captain Humphreys dried his eyes and stood up, turning to Cerdic.

“All right, now. Come on, lad.” He beckoned him over. “Let’s get your sergeant down to the kirk yard with the others. The rest of you move along now. There are others that need tending to who can still be saved. You may grieve for your sergeant later.”

And with that, the two dinosaurs hefted the fallen officer onto a stretcher and hauled him off along the wall toward the stairs. The remaining troops loitered around for a moment, then dispersed like the captain had ordered. Astron thought about what he had just witnessed, though neither he nor Rob nor Alfred spoke. This was certainly the dirty underside of war that his father had told him about. He had not really considered the old dino’s words much at the time, but now he knew what he had meant. It took the death of a friend to bring home the grim reality of it all, and strengthen his resolve even more. He looked to Alfred and Rob, and vowed to himself that if it was at all within his power, he would let no such fate befall them as long as he was alive.

Captain Torilis and the other escaped prisoners wandered back toward Saurahall in a very roundabout way, so as to avoid running into Edward’s main force as it besieged the city. They remained watchful for enemy movement as they walked, ready to make a dash for it or drop to the ground to hide at a moment’s notice if necessary.

Their escape had been simple enough. Wriggling his wrists around for the last few weeks, Captain Torilis had managed to get his claws loose from the ropes tied around them. He had then loosened the bonds around the others’ wrists and lured the guards into the tent. When they were close enough, the Saurahallers had jumped up and overpowered them without much sound. Taking the guards’ spears, they had then set off into the woods as quickly as they could while most of the camp was abandoned.

Now they were free and on their way home, assuming their home was still there, of course. They could only faintly hear the sounds of battle from back in the encampment, and had no way of knowing which side was winning. It did seem, however, that the noise had stopped, which only served to increase their anxiety. Nevertheless, the youngsters in their midst were too excited about their restored freedom to worry too much, and readily said so out loud.

“It’s good to have my arms to myself again,” said Filbert, flexing his claws and rubbing his still sore wrists. “When I get my claws around those b****y barbarians, I’ll…”

“Quiet now, lad!” spoke Richard sharply. “If they hear us, we’re as good as dead.”

“But sir, there are no Saltrak around here,” said Elaine.

“We don’t know that,” said the captain, looking around. “These woods could be filled with enemies. Now just do as you’re told and keep up.”

“All right, sir.”

“Right. Now, I’d say we’re be better off avoiding the road for now, lest we come out right in the midst of the enemy. Come on now, this way.”

They pressed on, not knowing what they would find when they got back to Saurahall. All they knew was that the fighting had clearly stopped. Suddenly one of them heard a noise.

“Sounds like someone’s coming,” said Filbert. “A lot of someones, actually.”

“Perhaps Edward’s been pushed back again, eh?” suggested the lieutenant.

“Very likely, Quintilius, old boy,” said Richard. “Afraid I hadn’t thought of that possibility.”

“So what do we do now, sir?” asked Leah, the youngest among them.

“Well, we’ll…” Captain Torilis suddenly experienced a frightening moment of indecision. He had never once been at a loss for ideas, but for an instant, he found he was. Then it came to him.

“Climb the trees everyone, quickly!”

They did their best and started clawing their way upward in the nearest trees. The youthful guards grabbed hold of branches and hopped up like they were made for tree-climbing. Filbert had been an experienced climber from the time he was six, and was the first to the top now. The older officers, however, had a harder time of it. They were Alvarosaurs, after all: not tree-dwelling Dendrosaurs. The lieutenant, with his bad shoulder, had a particularly rough time of it, and had to be helped up by the others. Eventually they all reached the top, however, and did their best to use the foliage as cover.

A few seconds after they had reached the upper branches, a wave of Saltrak marched by, their heads hung low in defeat. The Saurahallers in the trees took this as a good sign, and secretly cheered for their friends at home.

Still, the lines of troops seemed to go on forever, and they grew very uncomfortable in their positions. The lieutenant began to lose his grip on the branch he held. The others in the same tree could see this and tried to lean out and steady him. Captain Torilis reached a bit farther than the rest, and in doing so, shifted a hind claw incorrectly. The rest of the Guard captives watched in horror as their captain fell from the tree and landed with a heavy thud right in front of Edward the Slayer.

King Edward visibly jumped back at the shock of this, as did those around him. He stared in bewilderment at the Captain of the Saurahall Guard as he sat up with a grunt, smiled at him, and bade him a very casual “Hello there.”

Regaining his composure sooner than his comrades, Edward strode forward.

“Strange weather we seem to be having today,” said he, directing his gaze upward at the branches where he could see the others sheltering. “Come down now, or your captain’s life is forfeit.”

The lieutenant, who was losing his grip anyway, was the first down. The others soon followed, Filbert most reluctantly. When they were all surrounded and held fast again, Edward looked at them with a clever grin and spoke:

“I feel I must congratulate you, Captain, on creating the first rainfall of dinosaurs I have ever seen. But it seems we shall have to be a bit more careful with you lot in future.” He turned to one of his subordinates. “Bind them together, then find the biggest tree trunk you can and tie them to it. No tents or shelters over their heads this time, and no food for a week.” He then turned and continued on his way as though nothing in the world had happened.

That afternoon, Edward’s commanders stood in his tent, their heads bowed in shame before their dreaded leader. No one could stand to look him in the eye after the day’s calamity. Carl hid his wounded shoulder behind the others as the Slayer impatiently walked up and down the row they had formed, eyeing each one critically as he tried to think up words to express his displeasure.

“Oafs!” he spat out at last. “Bunglers! Cowards! I ask of you victory, a simple victory over old farmers and hatchlings, yet you fail again after I specifically told you I did not want failure. What does that make you when you are bested by that lot, most of whom aren’t even trained to fight? How hard is it to climb a ladder and swing a blade, pray tell?” He paused. “Well? What’s the matter now? Have you all suddenly become too stupid to speak? Explain yourselves!”

“The Saurahallers have spirit,” mumbled Carl.

“What’s that, Carl?” spoke Edward. “I’m not sure we all heard you there.”

“The Saurahallers have spirit, sire,” repeated Carl, still not raising his gaze.

“Oh they do, do they? And what spirit is that, if I may ask?”

“Desperation, lord. They’re fighting for their homes, lives, and freedom. Our troops don’t have any such motivation.”

“Lacking motivation, eh?” said Edward coldly. “And I don’t suppose their leaders went out of their way to instill any in them?”

“I tried, lord,” spoke Carl, knowing he was only furthering the king’s distaste for him. “But my arm was struck by an enemy arrow, and I couldn’t…”

“Your arm. Perhaps it would have been better if it had gone through your head, eh?”

He did not await an answer before shouting, “Get out of my sight, all of you! By rights I ought to have you flogged for your disobedience, and believe me, if there were anyone else even remotely capable of taking your places, they would. Especially yours.” He pointed right at Carl. “Out of my sight now!”

The chieftains did not pause to think twice, pushing and shoving each other to escape their leader’s wrath through the single tent door. The king pursued them in his fury and stopped some distance out to watch them flee to their tents. He shook his head and blew a heated sigh as he turned, attracting the attention of Lieutenant Rorke from afar. He and the others had been retied and roped to a wide tree trunk as ordered.

“Had a bad day, eh Edward?” he called out cheerily.

Edward, in no mood for frivolity, strode over and drew his sword, pointing it at the Guard Lieutenant’s throat. Quintilius merely looked him in the eye and said, “Go on then. An unarmed prisoner ought to be easy enough for the likes of you.”

Edward was sorely tempted, but somehow he could not do it. Something in the officer’s defiant stare made him uneasy inside, but he covered it up by replying, “No. That would be too easy for you. I want you to suffer, as you will when you see your city in ashes.”

“Burning a city takes fire, Edward, and you’re too icy on the inside for that.”

Edward could contain himself no longer and hit the lieutenant across the face as hard as he could, causing the officer’s nose to bleed. But in spite of this, he managed to look right at the Slayer and say, “A fine example you must make for that boy of yours.”

But Edward was already walking away, his mind turning and concocting the next plan to conquer Saurahall—and thus carry through on his threat.