Man Unmade Read online

  Man Unmade

  A Story of Grayfist

  By:

  J Scott Ferrell

  MysticPhysh Publishing

  Copyright © 2020 J Scott Ferrell

  Find out more about the author by going to

  http://www.munboy.com

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Other Books by Scott Ferrell

  The Chronicles of Grayfist

  A City in Shadow (Book 1)

  https://amzn.to/32AENTq

  Rise of the Nameless (Book 2)

  Coming 2020

  Subject 624 Origins

  Subject 624 (Book 1)

  https://amzn.to/38yzq9r

  Building 817 (Book 2)

  https://amzn.to/2P0Sa9B

  Order 723 (Book 3)

  Coming 2020

  The Everstone Chronicles

  (With Anéla Ferrell)

  Dragon Cave Mountain (Book 1)

  https://amzn.to/2rX3s6z

  Enter the Deep (Book 2)

  Coming 2020

  The Gatekeeper Trilogy

  The Gatekeeper (Book 1)

  http://amzn.to/2GIqAbx

  Gate City (Book 2)

  http://amzn.to/2Ee8pw0

  Gates of Delicia (Book 3)

  http://amzn.to/2ED1p9w

  1

  War was nothing new to Roryn Daud. Fifteen years he had served in the imperial army and he had seen just about everything there was to see. He had traveled the empire in service of the gods, the Harbingers. He had marched on foreign land. He had killed and watched friends die. Death was nothing new to him. He had seen many men die, too many under his command.

  He had been near death himself on more than one occasion. He had traveled the artic wastes in northern Vukar. There he had almost froze to death when his company had gotten lost. He had slushed through the swamps of Saicia where he had caught a disease that very nearly made him shit himself to death.

  Scars crisscrossed his body, wounds picked up in battle. He had felt the sting of many blades. Swords, axes, daggers, spears. All had left their marks on him.

  At thirty years of age, he had been in the imperial army for half his life. Since following in his father’s footsteps and enlisting at the age of fifteen, he had seen many things. There were very few firsts left for him to see, but filling the valley beneath him was a first and he didn’t like it.

  “I’ve never seen anything like that,” he said.

  “I could have gone the rest of my life without seeing it, truth told,” Ainle Maolain said from beside him.

  The rest of the Crows around them muttered their agreement.

  “I ain’t never been that good with numbers,” Shanlon, Ainle’s twin brother, said, “but I’d estimate that to be around a shitload.”

  Roryn glanced at the man and nodded in agreement. With the sheer number of Dreyumid warriors stretching across the valley and up the hill on the far side, there was no use in trying to count or even estimate. Shitload summed it up well.

  The Dreyumid were a race of savage creatures that inhabited the lands East of the Kithea Empire. Tall, with thin, muscular bodies, flat noses, and a sloping forehead, they were fierce creatures known for the brutality on the battlefield. They fought with reckless abandon that came from worshipping creatures that claimed to be Harbingers. These false gods preached giving their souls to the cause, though Roryn never really figured out what that cause was.

  There were stories that say the Kitheans and Dreyumid once used to live in harmony many centuries ago until the creatures that called themselves Harbingers grew jealous of the power of the real Harbingers that ruled over the Kithea Empire.

  About 200 years ago, they sent an assassin under the guise of an ambassador to meet with Kithea’s prophet to the Harbingers. The stories say the assassin murdered the prophet at a feast in honor of his visit, right in front of the Lord Marshal, several Lord Governors, and a room full of noblemen.

  The empire went to war the next day and the fighting had continued off and on since then. Mostly on.

  Roryn had spent much of his time on the eastern front fighting these creatures. He liked to think that he knew how they acted. How they thought. Their tactics in battle. But this massive gathering of warriors was beyond anything he had ever seen. The valley writhed with them. Their war chants filled the air, making it thick with dread.

  The Dreyumid had a hoard like mentality. When threatened, men, women, and children alike would group together to fight for their lives and their homes. To be facing down that many of them shouldn’t have been a surprise to Roryn or his superiors. For the past year, the army had been pushing deeper into Dreyumid territory than they had since he joined the army. It should have been obvious they would have grouped together to repulse the invaders.

  In fact, that’s what the Lord Marshal had counted on. Grand Marshal Thomme had been ordered to push his brigade as far and as quickly as he could into Dreyumid territory. From previous experience, Lord Marshal Corrin knew that would bring together the Dreyumid’s forces, leaving other parts of their lands less protected for Grand Marshals Hervi and Ivone to strike where the defenses were weaker.

  Roryn was sure the Lord Marshal hadn’t planned on this many of them gathering to face Grand Marshal Thomme’s force of only around 20,000 soldiers.

  Ania Rivers, Roryn’s second within the Crows, climbed the last bit of the hill and stared out at the valley below them. He let out a low whistle. “Thomme isn’t going to be happy about this.”

  “When is he ever happy about anything?” Shanlon asked.

  “With all the racket they’re making, he probably already knows,” Ainle added.

  The Crows had been sent ahead to scout the position of the Dreyumid army. They only had to cross one valley to find them. Roryn guessed it would take at least two days for a force that large to climb the hill they stood on, cross the valley at their backs, and then climb the far hill. The imperial army’s brigades were just beyond that.

  “I don’t envy you,” Ania said, slapping Roryn on the back, “when you have to let Thomme know the whole damn kingdom showed up to have a go at us.”

  “We’ll have to retreat,” Roryn said.

  “That man never retreats.”

  “What choice will he have? We’ll be outnumbered at least five to one.”

  “No need to understate those numbers for our sakes,” Shanlon said.

  “It’s probably closer to eight to one,” Ainle agreed.

  They were probably right, but Roryn didn’t want to inflate the numbers. Of course, underestimating them could be just as bad.

  “Are you really going to suggest we retreat?” Ania asked.

  “We’ve done our job,” Roryn said. “Penetrate deep into Dreyumid territory for two fortnights to draw their attention away from the south. Grand Marshals Hervi and Ivone will be well on their way marching toward Challes.”

  “Seems like an awful lot of effort for one city,” Ainle noted.

  “It’s their only major seaport into the Hotch Sea,” Roryn said. “If we can capture it, we’ll be able to cut this part of Dreyumid off from the rest of the world.”

  “And lose an entire brigade in the process?” Ainle grunted.

  Roryn stared down at the writhing mass and thought about those words. He had been in
a lot of dire situations, but if Grand Marshal Thomme didn’t pull back, chances of survival were not good. In fact, he estimated them to be not much more than zero. Not good odds any way he looked at it. He had been putting his life on the line for fifteen years, but if they tried to stand up against this force, he felt like it would be the first time there was no chance of living through it.

  He didn’t often think about his family while out on deployment. He couldn’t afford to. He often found himself in situations that if he didn’t give his full and undivided attention, he most assuredly wouldn’t survive.

  They came to his mind as he looked down on the army in the valley, though. His wife Evelyn. He had been in love with her since they were nothing but kids. When she agreed to marry him, he had considered it the best day of his life. Only the birth of their son, Michan, seven years later came close, though Roryn had been on the battlefield when he was born. Michan was already four-years-old and barely knew his father. If Roryn died in these valleys, Michan would never get the chance to know him.

  Roryn turned away and started making his way down the backside of the hill. The movement had been so abrupt that the other Crows had to hurry to catch up to him.

  “What you going to do, boss?” Shanlon asked.

  “If you’re running back to Kithea, nobody would think anything of it,” Ainle said.

  Ania looked at the twin hard. The man was a loyal member of the Harbingers’ imperial army, through and through. Talking of desertion, in jest or not, wouldn’t sit well with him.

  Neither of the twins seemed to notice. “By the Dust, I’d join you, if we’re being honest here,” Shanlon added.

  “A little less honesty goes a long way,” Ania said.

  “Nobody’s running anywhere,” Roryn said, hoping to cut off the tension right there. “At least not without orders to do so. We need to let the Grand Marshal know what we’re facing.”

  “And convince him to turn tail and run back to the borders, right?” Shanlon asked.

  For all their talk of not facing down that kind of opposition, there were no two people Roryn would rather have at his back than the twins. They were fierce, unwavering fighters who never backed down no matter the odds. They were just smart enough to avoid unsurmountable odds when possible.

  “I’m going to try my damnedest,” Roryn said.

  “The man’s head is thicker than a Gervian bull’s hide,” Shanlon said. “For all of our sake, I hope—”

  “That is your commanding officer you’re talking about,” Ania interrupted.

  “I know that.” The twin looked at Ania like he was stupid.

  They reached a level stretch on the side of the mountain where they had left their horses and the other nine Crows.

  “What’s it like over there?” Glimurry Rowper, the oldest of the Crows, asked. “Sounds like all of Dreyumid came out to greet us.”

  Roryn retrieved the reigns of his horse, Oak, from Raf Twotongues, and pulled himself into the saddle. “They just might have.” He gaged the sun’s distance from the horizon. If they pushed hard, they’d be able to make it to the next valley and the imperial army’s camp before night fell on them completely. “We need to let Thomme know as soon as possible.”

  “You mean tonight, don’t you?” Shanlon asked.

  “Let’s go.” He turned Oak around and bump his heels into his sides. The horse took off, following a deer trail down the side of the hill.

  The other Crows raced behind him.

  2

  The Crows rode into camp an hour after night had fallen. The terrain had been dangerous and the night moonless, but Roryn had pushed them on with urgency.

  While the rest of the group broke away to settle into camp, he had ridden straight to the command tents to find his direct commander, Marshal Alidis. When he gave the news of the gathering forces, the only sign of distress the marshal had given was a slight tightening of his jaw. He then marched out of his tent to call an immediate council of the commanders.

  Roryn had insisted on attending as he was the one who saw the Dreyumid forces and could attest to the danger of staying where they were. Marshal Alidis denied the request and dismissed him.

  Still, Roryn followed the man to the command tent and stood outside at a respected distance. If he tried to get any closer, the marshals’ guards would have shooed him away. All he could make out from that distance was slight murmuring with the occasional raised voice.

  After about an hour had passed, the commanders came bursting out of the tent. Every rank from marshals to field marshals to the grand marshal had been called into the emergency meeting. Some looked unhappy, but stoic while others looked eager.

  Roryn waited until Marshal Alidis marched out of the tent. He hurried up to his commander, falling in step with him. “What did they say?”

  He glanced at Roryn but didn’t meet his eye. “Tell those Crows of yours to get some rest. It might be the last they get for a while.”

  “Wait, does that mean we’re pulling back?”

  “Orders will be given at first light.”

  Roryn grabbed the marshal’s arm to pull him to a stop. “We’re not going to stand up to that force, are we?”

  Alidis looked from Roryn’s hand on his arm to his face. “Grand Marshal Thomme is quite adamant that we are to hold our ground.”

  “Did you tell him how many of those bastards we saw out there?”

  “Of course I did. He feels that we have accomplished exactly what we were tasked to do. The more of them that are over in that valley, the less will be south to defend Challes.” After a moment of hesitation, he added, “I agree with him.”

  “It’s suicide,” Roryn said, voice tight with unbelief. “If we had a year to prepare defenses, we’d still have little chance of standing for very along against that force out there.” He pointed east into the night where the Dreyumid forces gathered.

  Alidis pulled his arm free from Roryn’s grasp. “You forget yourself, Sergeant. We have our orders.”

  Roryn ground his teeth in frustration. “You know the cost of staying here. The lives lost will be immeasurable. We’re deep behind enemy lines with no supply chain. If they break through, we’ll be scattered to the wind and at the mercy of this unforgiven country.”

  Thomme watched him for several long moments. Calculating. Assessing. “It seems you have little faith in the imperial army, Sergeant Daud. When did this happen? When did you decide to start questioning your orders?”

  He took a slow breath to give himself pause before he said something he’d regret. “I’m not questioning orders. I’m looking out for the lives of my men.”

  “Your men?” he said, voice low and cold. “Your Crows? Your collection of misfits and criminals?”

  That wasn’t fair. Only one of the Crows, Jenkin, was a former criminal. “They’re the best men in this army,” he said fiercely. “I’ll take them over any man here.”

  “Then be prepared to die with them if need be,” Marshal Alidis snapped, at the end of his rope. “Dismissed, Sergeant.”

  Roryn hesitated, staring the man down and biting his tongue before he turned and stalked off into the night. It took him awhile to pick his way through the camp to where the Crows were gathered around a fire, cooking a couple hares to share between them. It had been enough time for him to be seething with anger by the time he got there.

  “Things didn’t go the way you hoped, boss?” Shanlon asked when Roryn stepped into the firelight.

  “Those idiots,” he growled. “Those stupid, shit eating idiots.”

  “Careful,” Ania said.

  Roryn stalked to where he sat, thankful for somewhere to direct his anger, and stood over him. “Or what? You going to run to tell them what I said?”

  Ania stood and though he was shorter than Roryn, he didn’t back down an inch. The two men stared at each other for a long moment before Ania said, “Those are your commanding officers.”

  “Those
officers are going to command us to march right into that meat grinder,” Roryn said. “You saw what we face out there. Men are going to die. We’ll all die and for what?”

  “‘Glory to the Harbingers and their benevolence’.” Shanlon quoted around a yawn while picking dirt from beneath his fingernails with a knife.

  “If we die, then we die, sergeant,” Ania said. “That’s what we signed up for. Didn’t your sergeant tell you that before you put your name to paper?”

  Roryn stared at the man. Insubordination wasn’t tolerated even at this lower level on the hill the shit rolled down. Even though Ania was due for a promotion soon, and Roryn had recommended it, he was still under Roryn’s command and he had always turned to his men, especially the Crows, for their thoughts and advice. As he stood there barely controlling his anger, he realized that perhaps he shouldn’t have fostered such questioning.

  Still, Ania was doing exactly what Roryn himself had just done with the Marshal. He hadn’t agreed and had voiced his concerns. Just because Ania didn’t agree with him didn’t mean it was any different. All it meant was he had taught his men to question orders—a mistake in the imperial army.

  “Get some rest,” he said, glaring at Ania. “You’ll need it for the next few days. Tomorrow we start building our defenses.”

  Ania stayed in Roryn’s face for a bit longer before turning to roll out his bedroll on the spot he had claimed earlier. Roryn watched him as he worked.

  Ainle stepped up beside him. “Chip off the old block, yeah?”

  Roryn wanted to argue, but it was true in a way. In other ways, Ania was just another soldier in the imperial army. A sheep often led to needless slaughter. Roryn had never been shy about questioning orders when they put his men at an unnecessary risk. He had received a mark against him a time or two when his questioning slipped over the line of insubordination. Marks meant docks in pay, something he cared little about when it came to the lives of the men he fought alongside. He did feel their effects when he went home to Evelyn with a lighter purse. He couldn’t help but think they could have owned that little farm they dreamed of by now if it hadn’t been for a few campaigns with less than half what he should have earned.