Any man who wished it, noble or common, had the right to apply to join the Garenland army and so answer to no one but his officers and the king. Axel had been accepted at once, due to both his noble birth and skill with the sword. Luckily, he was a second son, so Father had no recourse to complain. As heir, Stephan would never have been permitted to walk out.
Axel received the rank of lieutenant and an assignment to the Second Legion on the northern border in the hopes that he might help end the bandit raids that had been plaguing the area for the past ten years. That was two years ago and he’d made little progress in his mission. If anything, the raids had intensified.
Axel adjusted the cross guard of his longsword so it wouldn’t dig into his hip with each step his horse took along the goat path that passed for a road in this part of the kingdom. His command currently rode through a thick pine forest on their way to check the next village. The locals were mostly loggers and trappers that made their living in the wild places far from civilization. Their remote homes made them easy targets for bandits looking for unguarded victims.
Easy targets, but poor ones to say the least. Maybe they’d get some coin for the traps, furs, and other equipment in the villages, but it seemed little enough for the effort. Whatever their motivation, his job was to find them, kill anyone that resisted, and bring the rest back to base to hang. It sounded so easy, yet not a single raider had swung since he began the campaign.
He turned to the thick-set, bearded man riding beside him. Sergeant Cobb had lived in the borderlands his whole life and knew the land and the people like the back of his hand. Axel had found him a great asset since assuming his command.
“What do you think, Cobb, do we stay over at the next village or check one more before dark?”
“Best stop at this one, Lord Shenk. We won’t reach the next one until well after dark.”
Axel nodded. “It’s Lieutenant Shenk when we’re on duty, Cobb. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“Sorry, my lord.”
The fifteen men behind them in a double column chuckled at the resumption of their long-running argument. At this point Axel only brought it up to draw a laugh out of the men. He’d long since given up hope of convincing Cobb to call him by rank rather than title.
Cobb stopped short and cocked his head. Axel had seen that pose often enough to loosen his sword in its scabbard.
After a moment Cobb relaxed. “Scouts returning, my lord. Riding hard too.”
“Damn it all!” Axel took his hand away from his hilt. The only thing that would bring his men riding like that was another raid.
Two men in mottled brown and green scout uniforms came thundering around a bend on galloping horses. They slowed as soon as they spotted the column and approached at a more sedate canter.
The scouts reined in and saluted, fist to heart.
“Report,” Axel said.
“Another burned village, sir,” said Colten, the senior scout.
“Survivors?” Axel had little hope, but you never knew.
“We only made a quick survey, but no one presented themselves. The cabins were still smoking when we arrived. We missed them by a day at most.” Colten’s voice held the same rage that filled Axel to bursting.
“We’ll have a closer look.” Axel shook his reins and clucked his tongue, setting his mount in motion.
Colten fell in beside him in case he had any more questions. Axel had many questions, but none that the scout could answer. At the top of his list was who had attacked the people he was sworn to protect and where were the bastards hiding?
Fifteen minutes later the column rode into the smoldering remains of a ten-house village. Bodies in simple homespun clothes lay scattered about, some in the center of the cabins, others just outside their doors. There was no rhyme or reason to it, just chaos and death.
The villagers had plenty of firewood stacked up against a cold winter. That would make his final task here a little easier.
“Squad, gather wood and bodies and prepare a pyre. Cobb, Colten, with me. Let’s see if we can’t make some sort of sense out of what happened here.”
A chorus of “yes, sirs” was followed by the men dismounting. It wasn’t the first time they’d had to perform this sad task and Axel feared it wouldn’t be the last.
The corpse of a large, bearded man lay near the center of the village. He had a double-bitted axe frozen in his hands. Axel bent down for a closer look. Red ice covered half of one blade. At least he had gotten in a good lick.
Frozen blood caked the front of the dead man’s shirt, fusing it to his chest. Axel sent a silent apology to the dead man’s soul and ripped the shirt open. A single round wound had been punched in the corpse’s chest.
Cobb crouched beside him. “Arrow wound looks like.”
Axel agreed. “Why would the bandits bother to retrieve the arrow?”
“Not a lot of civilization around here.” Cobb straightened and looked around the rest of the clearing. “Steel arrowheads aren’t easy to come by.”
Colten stood a short way off studying the ground. The dirt had frozen as hard as stone, no way he’d find tracks. Even when they did find tracks, they usually lost them after a mile or two. The raiders knew their woodcraft, that was certain.
Axel loosed a shrill whistle. When everyone was looking at him, he said, “Keep an eye out for any wounds that might have been made by an axe.”
He waited for the “yes, sirs,” then went to join Colten. “What is it?”
“Blood trail.” Colten pointed to a dark line running along the ground. “It goes to the trees. Looks like the raiders took their dead with them.”
“Horses?” Cobb asked.
“The forest is too thick—they’re on foot. Look here.” Colten bent down and picked up a charred piece of wood. “Give it a sniff.”
Axel took the stick and held it to his nose. He smelled the acrid, charred scent of burned wood, nothing remarkable in that. “What am I missing?”
“The blood of the earth, don’t you recognize the stink?” Colten asked. “They used the stuff to accelerate the fires. I’d like to know where they got it. There are no wells in this part of the world.”
Axel frowned. If Colten was right and the bandits had used the thick, black ooze to start their fires it added yet one more mystery to this madness. The nearest wells lay hundreds of miles away.
An hour later the bodies of the fallen had been gathered and a massive pyre built. Axel said a short prayer, lit the pyre, and they rode on. Only two hours of light remained, but no one wanted to make camp in the burned-out village.
None of his men feared spirits—at least he hoped none of them were that faint hearted—but it somehow seemed disrespectful to camp in the remains of the village. Foolish perhaps, but when Axel gave the order to mount up, no one complained.
Cobb led them to a clearing three miles down the road. A low pile of half-rotted logs lay to one side, but they still had plenty of room to set up their one-man tents and get a fire going. The men went about their nightly routine with their heads down and none of the usual banter.
The lack of progress was dragging everyone down, Axel included. Some days he wondered if he had the right to lead men. He seemed to accomplish nothing beyond riding around and cleaning up bodies.