What Enchantment Hides - Book 1

Chapter 3

         Alphain and Boreit looked over at their companions, the fire burning brightly in the quiet night, their gazes intense and darker than the black sky above. Clouds covered the moon and stars and if one had not known better they would have thought the heavenly lights had never existed. The clouds were black with portions of slightly lighter, yet still barely recognizable gray. There was no breeze this night. The animals were quiet as well. There were no crickets or night birds. It was as if nature itself hid from the men camping out in the field. The inky blackness of the past three weeks or so had assisted in the men's escape from their scheduled execution in Kezna after they had been caught in an assassination attempt on the king and queen. They were lucky to have evaded being recaptured, even as they traveled on foot over the dark landscape. They wore all black and they had blended in so completely and had gone through great lengths to continue fleeing through rivers and creaks to lose the scent of the palace hounds. The ten men had pulled off a flawless plan. Not flawless in the way that they could not fail in an assassination, but in the way that even if that failed somehow their escape and disappearance was assured. Only three of them, including Alphain and Boreit, had been part of the actual attempt on the king’s life. The other seven all ensured a quick and hidden exit from the city and the realm. They had managed to make their way down, through Dorsha, and into the open, unsettled plains beyond. In Dorsha, they had recruited a highly skilled swordsman who shared their values - or lack thereof. They stopped their flight just below the border of the Lowlands. They planned to build a crude fort of stone and paid off some men in Dorsha to have the supplies delivered to them. The night was long and silent and the men all looked from one to the other. It was the first night since they left Dorsha that they had stopped hiding and running. They were home. A desolate grassy home, but a new start and a new chance to gain the power they all sought. Sayog sat outside the circle of light swinging his sword around, practicing his stances and maneuvers. A couple of the men whispered quietly to each other at the edge of the firelight.

         Boreit called to them. “Care to share your secrets with the group, brothers?” The two men, Bryger and Borith were Boreit’s younger siblings. They were all in their thirties, and had been traveling together since the youngest was nineteen. Their heads came up with a jolt. Borith went silent and eyed Bryger with warning.

         The middle brother spoke up after nodding to the youngest. “Brother, we’ve come up with a plan to make you like a king in the unsettled lands we have decided to make our home.”

         Curious, Boreit raised an eyebrow and glanced around at the others in the circle. He noticed that Sayog had even heard and stopped his practice to listen in. Boreit was the brains and brawn of their operation, being a highly intelligent man of thirty-eight and built like a brick wall. At six foot seven inches, he was an imposing monster of a man with a dark neatly trimmed beard and cropped black hair. He had a pleasant face and a bright smile, if he ever smiled. Despite his gentle features, he was a ruthless, arrogant and brutal man with little to no morals. He had basically raised his brothers and they shared his lust for power and lack of integrity. He nodded at his brother to continue.

         “It would be wise for us to recruit soldiers. However, instead of finding soldiers already made, I think it would be more beneficial to our end goal to go into some smaller villages further south, far away from Kezna, and find some younger boys that we can mold into the perfect soldiers.”

         Boreit’s dark eyes narrowed in the flickering firelight, his features foreboding. “So kidnapping and brainwashing. If that’s what you mean, just say it. You know I can’t stand when you talk around your point with implications.”

         Bryger swallowed hard. “Yes. That is what I am saying.”

         Alphain cut in. “Which one of you thought of this?” Neither of the brothers said anything, but their frozen expressions and the tinge of fear in Borith’s eyes gave away that it was the younger brother’s idea. Alphain hesitated a moment, staring down the brother. “Sayog!” He waved over the swordsman. “What do you think of Borith’s plan?”

         Sayog stood still in the lighted ring, his features rigid and his mind deep in thought. A minute later, he looked over at Alphain and Boreit. “It’s a near flawless way for guaranteeing perfectly obedient, fearless soldiers. It does not mean we could not recruit adults and experienced men. However, there is no better way to ensure we have a tight, lethal force supporting us.” He swung his sword around and sheathed it in one expertly fluid motion. The orange light of the flames glinted off his bald head.

         Boreit cleared his throat uncomfortably. “That’s a dangerous undertaking.”

         “Is our fearless leader acquiring some fear? Or worse yet, morals?” a voice said from the circle of men. A couple men chuckled while the rest started mumbling quietly.

         “I am not afraid, nor do I disagree. I was merely stating the fact that kidnapping children from villages is a dangerous undertaking. Especially if we do it ourselves.” The chattering continued and Boreit’s frustration at being questioned began to rise.

         Alphain, who had worked alongside the large man for years, saw his expression darken and intervened to save the commenter's head. “If I am correct in assuming, his point was not that we should not do it, but rather that we may want to take a high level of caution while our numbers are still small. As we all know, we only have one expert swordsman among us. And while Boreit is a skilled fighter as well, his skills are mostly of a different caliber than with a blade. The best option may be with hiring or bribing someone to do the kidnapping for us until we are a strong enough force to go in and take children by force without the chance of being greatly opposed. Please correct me if I’m wrong.”

         Boreit nodded gratefully and smirked maniacally. “That is exactly my point. Why risk our own men when we have a higher chance of success if someone else does the work for us until we have more and greater fighters in our ranks. If we do that, we can spend our energy building up a fortress while our students are being acquired for us. We all have enough gold if we pool our money.”

         The same man who commented before, spoke up again. “But what then? How do we plan to rebuild our riches once they are depleted?”

         “We hire out our services.” Alphain again interjected into the conversation. “Did you all think we were going to stay here, settle down and get fat off what little money we have gathered for ourselves? We want influence. We came out here and escaped execution to hold power and strike fear into the very people who tried to take us down in Kezna. We want even the king of that forsaken realm to tremble when he hears of us. In the meantime, while our students are being fetched for us, we will build a fort and guard our lands completely. Anyone passes too closely, we take out. We rob and kill. We take any children and recruit them. We kill any men. And we can keep the women for a midnight snack.”

         A roar of gross laughter and cheers erupted at the last statement. The morale and confidence in Boreit was back up and strong. He knew what his men wanted and enjoyed and he would guarantee them share in the riches of their plunders.

         The following months went smoothly for the men. The stone they commissioned to be delivered came within a week of them arriving in the fields. They had constructed a watch tower, a small courtyard and living quarters. They had begun digging underground corridors when the first of their ‘students’ arrived. There were four boys from three villages. They were ages four, five and seven. They were locked in a room, each alone. The stone walls were bare and cold, dark and damp. There were no windows and they were kept in this solitary confinement everyday except for the times they were brought out for their training. Their will was taken from them, they were forced to fight Sayog and they were made to sit through programming classes in order to mold them into the perfect soldiers, loyal and without fault or fear.

         Six months later, they had underground chambers built and were in the process of constructing underground stables for a quick exit in case of an attack. They had an underground training room and armory in the making and had expanded the courtyard. They had been able to recruit stonemasons and builders to assist them. The price was easy to accommodate. A few builders wanted their neighbors, spouses or in-laws assassinated and were more than willing to hire a couple willing mercenaries to get the job done quickly and quietly. Since they were away, no one could blame or suspect them of having any involvement at all. Boreit left Alphain in charge while he and Sayog took their best student and left to accomplish their assignments. The murders were simple and the men returned within two weeks time.

         Within two years, the fort became more of a fortress. The fortress of Harta. It was large and castle-like. It had watchtowers and stone passages that connected second and third level rooms while it overlooked the massive courtyard. The mercenaries had a food hall and a dungeon. Boreit had his own quarters and they had interrogation and torture rooms built for training purposes. While they intended to take no male prisoners, it was always a good idea to test their brainwashing by allowing the younger recruits to show their loyalty by brutally massacring prisoners. They would be preferably family members or close friends that they would track down, but no one knew if that would be a possibility. Their plans were extensive and heartless.

         Boreit had even come up with a brand for his men. The red hot piece of metal would be laid on the back of their necks, just above their shoulders and just higher than a low collared tunic would cover. The brand was three triangles - one pointing up and one pointing to each side. One triangle each for body, mind, and soul. All belonged to Harta. The three triangles would test the loyalty of the men to their cause. If they refused, they were used for training for the children.

         The last space created was the brothel. They had taken quite a few women, and after having to keep them in the dungeon for a while, they decided that having a brothel was a much better plan to keep the men happy and satisfied and closer to their rooms. The men did not have to keep the women there, but it would be more efficient and enjoyable.

         The fortress was enormous and took up a large part of the plans. It had begun receiving quite a reputation as a mercenary stronghold that had suddenly and oh so subtly sprung up from the dirt. No one could say who began it or where they came from as the leaders and high ranking men wore face coverings outside their walls.

         It had been seven years since Harta was founded and the children that had originally been brought there had grown up to be some of the most feared men in both the Highlands and Lowlands. Argen walked through the halls. He was one of the oldest young men in the fortress. He was seven the year Harta had been founded. He was the oldest out of the first four boys abducted. His blonde hair covered his sweat coated forehead in thick strands, the rest of his shoulder length hair tied back. He stopped on one of the walkways above the courtyard and looked out over the open ground at the gates to the fields beyond. A group of boys in torn clothing, covered in blood were being ushered along the path to the dark rooms. He couldn’t remember being in the dark rooms used to keep the boys in solitary confinement, yet he knew he had been. He smiled insanely, enjoying the sight of the boys being shoved and beat for not moving fast enough. They would be broken down and made to fight as young as four years old. The younger the boy, the easier it was to create a perfect soldier. Argen sighed and continued on his way to the commander’s quarters. He arrived at the door and rapped loudly. He heard a grunt of approval and walked in. Boreit sat in a chair facing away from him. He turned around when the young man came in. The boy was built. He was muscled and tan, just about six feet tall. He was incredibly skilled and strong. At fourteen, he was already a model soldier.

         “Argen,” his superior began. “Do you know why I wanted you here?”

         “I have a few ideas, sir, but nothing that I would be interested in.”

         Boreit gritted his teeth. These boys were perfect soldiers, but they became bored with their duties much too easily. This boy, Argen, was the worst of them all so far. They had kidnapped nearly one hundred boys in the last seven years and they did not feel that they needed more any time soon while they took on the heavy load of training. The teenagers and older boys could help train the youngest recruits which helped to lighten the load. “I have some assignments I want you to go on. We have a large enough group of trained mercenaries that I believe you could lead an assignment yourself.”

         The teen still looked incredibly bored. “What is the assignment?”

         “We have been hired to wipe out the village of Nurotef. It’s a decently small village, only a mile or so wide.”

         The boy perked up just a little at heading a large job. He had been stuck in the fortress doing rounds and taking women to the brothel and torturing children and it had become old and bothersome. “So who hired us for this?”

         Boreit waved his hand dismissively. “Some man who has enemies or something there. I do not ask many questions. I can request more money the less I inquire. Can you handle this job?”

         The youth smiled ferociously. “Of course I can. Do you want any survivors?”

         Shaking his head, the commander turned back to whatever he had been doing before Argen arrived. “You can kill all the children. We have enough for a while. And unless you want more women to fill the brothel, you can kill them and all the men, too. We have a few prisoners for testing. I'd rather not keep more. You’re dismissed.” Boreit listened to the boy turn and walked out, shutting the door behind him. He really did like Argen. His fervor for the job and his comfort with little words and good strategy and his desire for blood made him a model soldier. He would be the one to succeed him if all things went according to plan. He smiled darkly and stared down at his paperwork for the current assignment. By the time the hawk got to its location with the papers, confirming the job was done, Argen should just be finishing the destruction.

         Screaming echoed across the village. Argen wiped blood from his forehead with the back of his blood stained sleeve. It did not help remove any of the spatter, but it did help keep it from dripping in his eyes. He looked around at the bodies of children and men and women that surrounded him. He heard whimpering a little ways away and looked for the sound. There was someone injured nearby. He walked around a small house and saw a little girl dragging herself toward her slaughtered mother and father. Argen rolled his eyes and walked over to her, unsheathing his sword. The girl turned and looked up at him. Her eyes were filled with tears and her bloodied face was streaked with them. She let out a shriek and a sob as he swung the sword down, severing her head. He would have normally taken time to enjoy the job a little longer, but the day was getting late and too many people had put up a fight. This village had quite a few skilled fighters and it took longer than he had anticipated. He walked through the carnage to one of the houses. An infant lay dismembered in its cradle in one room. The boy ignored it and looked for anything of value. These people were poor, which was annoying since he was allowed to take and keep anything of value he found. He had managed to find great favor with his commander and took full advantage of it. He exited the house and continued looking through each homestead he came to. Nothing. He blew a heavy breath out, frustrated. He came to the village center, where some of the slaughter was still being wrapped up. Children and parents screamed and begged for their lives as the mercenaries toyed with and tortured them until they became bored with the crying and moved on to the next thing. Their leader found the center building that looked like a tavern that may have doubled as a town hall of sorts. He looked in and saw that it had been ransacked and anything of value had already been taken. His bright blue eyes clouded over and he stalked out and to the border of the village where his men began gathering. Someone did not tell him that they found spoils. He would make an example of them and quickly.

         As he approached the edge of the houses, one of his subordinates ran up to him with a large satchel and handed it over. “The valuables, sir.” A smile tugged at his lips as he took it and held it up in front of the men and boys. They cheered. It was a good plunder. He separated it out in the dirt so each of his men could get a small share. He took a larger share for himself because that was his privilege and checked over his men to make sure they were finished here. All of his men were now accounted for and they mounted their horses and rode off, satisfied with their day’s work.

         Argen did take over for Boreit. Sayog continued to train the recruits and help strategize until they were both killed when their usefulness was up as was their agreement. They could not go anywhere and the resources to take care of elderly was just too burdensome. It had been forty-five years and Argen continued the work and became even more ruthless than Boreit. In the years that Boreit had led the mercenaries, though, even the king of Kezna feared a run in with the soldiers from Harta.

         Then Hannon took over command of Harta. Multiple generations removed from Boreit and just as ruthless as Argen. Just after king Trayzer ascended the throne, he assumed full authority and had his eye on the devastation of the Highlands. It was common knowledge that the mercenaries existed to overpower the forces of the Highland allies. Despite what they had become and the assignments they took, no one forgot their original purpose. Years passed and Hannon actively kept his eye on the throne of Kezna. He had spies everywhere. Then one day a message came by way of a royal knight. Hannon had a good feeling about this knight who had been brutalized before he had even made it to the fortress. However, he had said he had a message for Hannon from the commander of the king’s army and was permitted to deliver it in whatever state they decided to bring him in. Hannon took the message that was signed with Orin’s signature and read it aloud to his men in his chambers.

         Commander of the stronghold of Harta,

                   I request your help through one of my soldiers personally loyal to me. I have recently attained the position of commander of the king’s military and because I know what you seek, I will assist you as long as you agree to return the favor. I will pay you from the king’s own treasury if you agree to lend me aid in the assassination of the king and the overthrowing of the royal city of Kezna as well as the abduction of the newborn princess. The favor I require from you is to make sure that I become steward by helping to rid the city of those in the palace who may remain loyal to the king.

         Orin, Commander of the Royal Military

         “Well, Anohean, we need some new recruits. It seems as if the future will be quite busy,” Hannon said to his second in command as a slow, dark smile crossed his lips.

         Anohean rode into the small village with his group of mercenaries. The orders from Orin had been clear. He was to remove all small villages in the way of Kezna and the Lowland kings in their goal to control all the lands. Orin had obviously not realized that in doing this, he isolated his own allies and in sitting up on his throne eating and drinking he would be unprepared for when he stood alone. The mercenaries would soon own the largest military in all the lands. Orin would be easy to overtake someday. Maybe while he was commander after Hannon.

         Anohean rode up to the small village of… he could not remember. It did not technically matter since it would be desolate within the day. It looked as though someone had spotted them from a long way off. He saw people scurrying into houses and away from the edge of the town. As he moved closer, the mayor came out and watched them ride toward his village. His fear was evident even from a distance. The mercenary pulled his steed to a stop in front of the gentleman.

         “Mercenary.” The man’s voice was strained as he struggled to keep his composure. He was well aware of what the mercenaries were capable of and what they were known for.

         Anohean raised a hand and signaled his men to do their job. Hooves thundered past and a few torches were lit and thrown into houses. Women and children ran out of the homes screaming in terror and their husbands ran toward them in an attempt to protect their families. The men were butchered before they reached their wives and the mercenaries’ bloodied hands grabbed the women. If they weren’t killed, they were raped in front of their terrified children and taken back to Harta in ropes. Their children were disposed of except for a decent number of boys for training and teenage girls. The leader just stared at the man before him and laughed at his fear and anger. He turned to run, but the rider grabbed him by the back of the tunic and lifted him from the ground. Anohean was a large man, bulky and tall. He was immovable and intimidating. At nineteen he was the equal of any experienced adult. He spurred his horse on and rode full gallop toward a building, throwing the man into the wall head first. He heard a crack and a cry of agony. Blood poured from the poor man’s head. “Why?” he cried out in desperation. He never received his answer. He was roped by the mercenary and dragged behind the horse to the village center. Having been trampled by another horse on the way, he was barely conscious and could not move by himself. Anohean dismounted, walked over to him and tied him to the door with the help of another one of his men. Together they strung him up, spread eagle, and jeered at him. They took turns nailing his limbs to the door as they listened to his muffled whimpers. After more torment, Anohean’s soldier was distracted by a mother with a baby and went off to pleasure himself. The remaining mercenary laughed as he looked on before becoming bored with his current victim and snapping his neck.

         With a loud whistle and a hand in the air, he called his men to wrap things up and take the women and recruits back to the fortress or to kill them.