Project
Code Name - Gathering
Low Down - Novel (in prog). The gist of it was developed when I watch
the movie Ronin. I thought the movie was okay. Not great.
Could have been great. Anyhow, the idea was intrigue, a group of dudes
called together for a job. Lots of character development. Who were
the people, what were they doing. There's more, but, anyway.
I'm
writing some background that wouldn't be in the book but kind of setup the
characters and develop them for me. Sooo, here's some background, not
really complete yet, on one of the main characters.
(It's
rough, I know, but hey, at least I'm posting something.)
********
They
stepped in from the storm, the water tumbling off them, glinting in the timid
fire light. They tried to step
closer around the warmth, whilst tipping backwards to keep the torrents of
water from rolling off their cloaks and onto the fire.
"How
does it look?" she asked, out of duty.
She really had no desire to know.
"It's
not good," the taller one said. "If
they keep up the pace, they'll be there just after daybreak."
"Even
in the storm? You'd think it
would have slowed them down"
"They're
mostly mounted. Only a couple of
wagons. There may be more a few
miles behind them, but we didn't see any message runners."
"Okay.
Go and report to Hawthorn. He'll
want to know."
"Indeed.
Should we report back here?"
She
stopped for a moment, replaying his words, searching for any hint of fear.
But there was none. His
voice was tired and strained. "No.
We can handle it. Report
to Malin. Someone’s got to keep
the mercenaries in check."
"Thanks
you" With that, they stepped
back into the sheet of water and vanished.
She
stood there, alone with her thoughts and doubts. She and her soldiers would be the first to engage.
It was their responsibility to slow the advance to a crawl while the
archers on the ridge decimated them. She
had told all of her men that they would most likely live on in song only.
They understood. They knew
why they were fighting. And so
they hid, knowing that she would not let them die in vain.
She sighed and sat heavily on the rough cut log.
She turned her mind inward to prayer.
When she was finished, she began to sharpen her sword.
Hawthorn
wasn't concerned with the news. He'd
expected the raiders to move in quick. He
was simply glad to have found out they were going to hit Cren Valley.
Most of the people had made it into the town.
His squads were rounding up the stragglers and, under his specific
orders, physically dragging anyone who refused.
The last thing he wanted was someone's resolve tested by the capture of
kin.
He
took another wash of thick green from his mug.
He felt it trickle down his throat and stick somewhere on the way to
his stomach. He shook his head
and squinted into the darkness. Nothing
yet. He'd been told that it'd
take an hour or two before he would be able to see.
He'd made sure his men drank it at staggered times.
The last thing he wanted was everyone's vision to go at the same time.
Though it probably wouldn’t have hurt to mix it with some ale.
That
then was his plan. With the
concoction the mage had created, he and his squads were going to attack from
the ridge in the darkness. Leandra
would slow them down, and his archers would be able to clean the hillside as
they advanced. With the army
routed, his horsemen would race down and cut off their retreat.
Then they'd stand a chance of defending Cren Valley.
But only then. And his men knew it. There
wasn't any room left for mistakes. He just hoped Leandra was ready.
He knew she would be. But
if anything happened to her, if she faltered in any way, he knew it would not
succeed.
Any
other time, any other battle, he wouldn’t have a doubt.
But lately, she’d seem more withdrawn than usually.
And she was asking strange questions of people.
Hawthorn remembered a few years ago when she’d struggled to convince
him that she could fight. It had
taken five bouts with his best soldiers.
It had also cost him five of his best soldiers.
Not that anyone could blame him. There
just weren’t many female soldiers, let alone one that could best any three
of his men.
Hawthorn
admired her. Loved her as a
daughter he never had time to have. But
today, unlike any other battle, there was more depending on her than ever.
And unlike any other battle, she hadn’t been herself lately.
Hawthorn finished his ale and set the mug down.
He called the guard nearest to him.
The man immediately crouched beside him.
Hawthorn gave him whispered orders and they both left the tent
together.
She’d picked a thick outcropping
of brush to hide in. As she lay
there, listening to the faint sound of thunder in the distance, she could
smell the sharp scent of rosemary and the harsh cold stone beneath her.
She absently traced a finger thorough the patch of soil that rose out
of the stone.
There was a scrape of leather on
stone and Deva was laying next to her. His
hair was matted to his forehead with sweat.
“Everyone is in position,” he whispered.
“They know not to attack until you give the word.
It’s now just a waiting game.”
She nodded and awkwardly patted
him on the shoulder. He continued
to stare at her. She looked over
at him. “What is it?”
“It’s just you and I.
Answer me truthfully. Do
we have any chance of surviving this?”
She couldn’t keep looking at
him. Leandra could see his young
boy and wife standing behind him, faint visions of Deva’s tearful goodbye
when they left. This is getting
repetative,” Leandra thought. But
she wished again that it was only her. That
she wasn’t in charge of the lives of so many.
She sighed heavily. Deva
reached out and patted her shoulder.
“I know,” he said.
“It’s just difficult waiting.
I’ll go check the perimeter.”
With a faint rustle, Deva crept out of the bushes and was gone.
Leandra was left with only hope. After
several minutes, the glaring moonlight joined her.
Glancing to either side, she could
see a brief flash of metal in moonlight from her men.
Apparently, they’d decided to not listen to her order to wrap their
gear. The last thing everyone
need was to have the scrape or glint of a sword on stone alert the advance
scouts. The plan was only going
to work if they left most of the troops pass them by.
She look down the hill.
There were several tiny points of torch light slowly meandering up the
first level of elevation. It
would take an hour at least. The
scouts would be much soon. If her
scouts were correct, it wouldn’t take long for them to setup a forward watch
position. They rotated scouts back and forth, ten or so running ahead,
then being replaced by the rear scouts. Fortunately,
they wouldn’t expect an attack so far from Cren.
Leandra sighed.
She didn’t understand why the raiders seemed to randomly decide to
attack Cren. Fortunately, a
merchant caravan had been hit. Fortunate for the two of the group who made it back to Cren
with information about the attack that they’d overheard while being
tortured. Fortunately for Cren.
Unfortunate for the twenty other people who were dead or enslaved by
the raiders.
So after several weeks, when the
approaching army was finally spotted, the valley was prepared, the plans
memorized by all involved, and the townspeople evacuated and secured.
All that remained were Leandra and Hawthorn’s groups.
In spite of the tension, Leandra couldn’t help smiling.
Maybe they’d route them by dawn.
Then she could have breakfast at the tavern hall.
A tumbling of a pebble on stone
snapped her out of the hall and back into the brush, her sharp eyes scanning
the ridgeline. Nothing, then
suddenly, of to her right, the flit of a shadow between her and dot of torch
light. Someone.
He was sticking to the bushy patches and then crawling past.
She glanced ahead and to her left.
There had to be more. Her
eyes strained and then she saw them.
They floated over the ground and
paused. Six, seven, eight.
Nine total. They were
shadowing the tenth who was walking slowly along the path.
Now Leandra would find out if she was correct.
She’d spent several days watching the raider scouts.
She knew where they stopped and made a scout post and when they would
send the next group forward. If
she was wrong, if they pushed all the way to the top of the hill, the attack
would be compromised. And she
couldn’t just kill all the scouts. The
raider army only proceeded a certain distance and then waited for a report
from the scouts. And all but one
rotated in the relay. The single
one that didn’t was the spotter. He
was the one walking along the main path.
He was the bait.
They floated quietly around her
and her men, wordlessly rotating around the lone scout marching
dutifully up the hill. All ten of
them moved beyond and further up the hill.
Leandra had only misjudged slightly.
They moved a beyond and then backwards, setting the scout camp just
below a ridge in front of Leandra. She
couldn’t see them, but could hear their faint discussion.
They were going to rotate.
Leandra glanced over her shoulder,
making sure her men further up the hill hadn’t moved.
Along a higher ridge, a flash of black in the moonlight moved down the
hill towards her.
