16 Zi’da 716
The army had travelled for three full days and two long nights by boat to get from Andaris to Welles. During which Malcolm had spent a lot of time with his captains going over plans and tactics for tracking down the remaining forces of Qe’dreki. They had sent scouts ahead of them, and information regarding the rebels whereabouts in Oakleigh had surfaced, though reports seemed to be scattered, with groups spread out right across the Eastern Settlement. This meant two things for the members of the Iron Hand, the rebels were divided and would be easier to deal with, but it left them open to attack from all sides. Wherever he led his army, he would need to make sure they were never separated, because that was when they would run into danger. The galleon ships weren't as fast as some of the schooners Malcolm had noticed sailing by, or the Volareon that owned the sky overhead. The warden found himself looking up to see if he could spot Elyna’s mount, wondering from time to time what is was she thought and felt while she was up there. It had been too long since they had last worked together, and a selfish part of him hoped this trip would bridge the gap and bring them closer together once more.
It was late by the time they docked in Welles. The ships dropped off their occupants and sailed away from the shore to anchor beyond the troublesome tide that followed the eastern shoreline from the north and whirled around the island of Pyke. They were careful also to stay out of reach of any catapults, not sure if Qe’dreki had made a deal with any of the local merchant families that ran these small townships across the settlement.
Malcolm wasted no time in securing a mount for the journey ahead, and went straight to the stables where he purchased another Andalusian, having been impressed with the one he had bought back home in Rynmere the season before. The gelding was a lot lighter than Mithril in colour, almost white, and when Malcolm inquired as to whether or not the animal had a name, the man at the stable answered “Mulki,” which he explained meant dead in Xanthea.
Malcolm smiled. “He does look a little like a ghost, I agree.”
The troops marched towards the township of Welles and made camp on the outskirts, hunting in the nearby forests for deer and rabbits. Malcolm helped set up camp with the intention of continuing on to the village. It was the last night he would be able to spend in an actual bed, and he wanted to share it with Elyna, things having been a little hectic before they had left the capital. With work at the university and intensive training for some of the lower ranked members in the army, he had little time leftover to spend with family. They had left Elsie with someone Elyna had interviewed and allowed to stay at her parent's house where they both trusted their daughter would be safe. Malcolm was sure Elyna would like him to check in on Elsie using his abilities to let her know all was well.
The knight went in search of the skyriders he could see landing on the other side of camp, but was stopped by Murphy Webb. “Warden,” the man called.
Malcolm turned around to look at him. “Captain.”
“We've had a scout return on horseback.”
“Very well,” Malcolm nodded, “see that he is fed and debriefed.”
“There won't be any need for food, ser.”
Malcolm felt his stomach tighten, that didn't sound good. “Take me to him,” he nodded to the captain and followed when Murphy turned to leave the camp.
They continued on towards the edge of the woods where Murphy’s men had kept the wounded horse and dead rider from the rest of the army. The scout had only been a boy, not yet twenty, just a wisp of a lad who had recently earned the title of steward. There must have been at least thirty daggers in his back, and he lay hunched over his horse, the fingers on his hands black and blue. It looked as if each had been held over flame, a horrible torture method Malcolm hadn't seen used for some time.
“Get him off the horse,” Malcolm ordered, and the men quickly did as they were told, bringing the boy down from the horse with care.
They took the daggers from the scout’s back and set them aside to wash and reassign later. Malcolm turned the young man onto his back and lifted his bloodstained shirt, Qe’dreki’s sigil carved into the man’s chest. “Immortals have mercy,” the warden breathed. “This is what happens when a bunch of spoiled, bored young men without discipline start an army.”
“There was a note, ser, folded up and left in the man’s mouth,” Murphy held the note out to Malcolm.
The words were written in Rakahi, and none of the men present had been able to read them. Malcolm could make out the odd word, but would need to have Benjamin or Elyna translate the rest. He put the note in his breast pocket and told them to clean up the body and see to it that the boy was sent home on one of the smaller, faster ships to Rynmere. With that, the warden led the wounded horse into camp and handed the reins over to one of their animal husbandry experts to care for. He would share a meal with some of the knights and later make his way to the village where he would then meet up with Elyna.