Free Prince of Wrath by Tony Roberts Page B

work to begin with. He hoped the manpower was still there to enable that. He’d also need a foreman and business administrator. The old ones had probably died in the war.
    They strung out into a long line, Astiras riding in the centre with Teduskis just in front. They were veterans of the Bragal War, and had learned much in the past few years as to how to travel in the region. The trees were not yet in leaf but the buds were growing fat, and it wouldn’t be long. Avians were calling in the woods, establishing territories or seeking a mate. The occasional animal scampered from their approach, frightened by the pounding of hoofs or the unfamiliar tinkling of metal.
    Astiras looked to left and right. Nothing. Up ahead, just beyond the distant figures of the scouts, a treeload of avians suddenly sprang into the air, startled. Astrias cursed and hauled on the reins. “Recall the scouts!” he snapped.
    Teduskis sent two men forward rapidly to bring the scouts back. He waved the rest to stop and string out. “What is it, sire?”
    “Something sent those avians up into the air up ahead,” Astiras nodded at the large gnarled giant tree that stood down the track, silent, threatening. “Someone, more like. Send two groups out wide to find out exactly what.”
    “On foot, sire?”
    “Four on foot, three behind mounted. Arrowhead formation.”
    Teduskis saluted, slapping his chest. In moments a group began slipping through the woodland on either side of the track. The men on foot were armed with shiny steel swords, forged in Kastan city, and shields sporting the coat of arms of the Empire, two purple rings, one above the other, with a single vertical bar running through both. The men on equine back behind them had spears as well as swords and spiked clubs. They had learned to adopt missile weapons in the war.
    Astiras waved the remainder on slowly, cautiously. If archers were in the trees ahead, then they would soon come under attack. The two flanking groups would give whoever it was ahead food for thought, however.
    As one, the three separate units closed in on the thick growth of trees. Astiras waved his men to halt and indicated to the flankers to curl round the stand of huge trees. He then nodded to Teduskis to take ten men and close in on the stand from the track. The woods had gone quiet. Astiras slowly drew out his sword, a gleaming, oiled weapon with a hilt wrapped in leather and sporting a pommel that had a hunting avian’s wings inset in blackstone on a silver background.
    As the flankers began to creep in towards the rear of the trees, the undergrowth burst into life. Figures suddenly sprang up and fled in various directions. “No killing!” Astiras yelled. He wanted to see who it was and what they were doing there.
    His men sprang after the fugitives and for a few moments there came confused shouting and crashing of branches, bushes and saplings. Then all was quiet. Figures began to converge on the track, prisoners held by the arms, roughly being herded towards the Emperor. Astiras waved his men to form a circle and waited, his sword tip pressed into the earth. There were four prisoners, all marched swiftly into the circle. They looked like typical Bragalese villagers, dressed in dull colours of green, brown or grey. They had brown hair and swarthy complexions.
    “Now,” Astiras said, eyeing the four who were sullenly standing before him, still being held, each looking at the ground in front of them. “What are you doing here on my land?”
    He got no response. He nodded to Teduskis who could speak fluent Bragalese. So could Astiras but he was damned if he would stoop to speaking a language he detested. His right-hand man repeated the question.
    One of the prisoners, the tallest and with a shock of curly hair, looked outraged. Teduskis translated his response. “This is our land, our valley. You are trespassing.”
    Astiras laughed. “No, you peasant, I am Astiras Koros and I own this land and all within it.