Remnant of Power

Chapter Twenty-three

Timod / Mal

Timod slumped against the wall to steady himself. Was he hallucinating because of hunger, or was this really happening? He looked at the pale man standing outside the prison door. He'd heard rumours of strange creatures who lived in the forests of Arvad, people like humans who were stronger, and lived longer, but he'd never known if they were true or not. By the look of it they were. Propping one hand against the wall as he walked, he made his way out of the door. He stood in the night air and looked back into the prison. Was this even possible?

He was free.

The other prisoners poured out, gathering in the street in front of the prison. There were nearly two hundred of them. A massive wolf sprang over to him and started to speak. Timod flinched, unnerved.

"Get out of the city," his growl was grim, "Tell everyone to go. We killed the guards at the city gates but it won't be long before the King finds out."

The King. Timod turned around to look behind him. The castle loomed over the city. Somewhere inside it was the King. He turned back to the crowd of prisoners and stood, calculating. Could they storm the castle? Could they kill the King now? His eyes ranged over them. They were starving, weak; most of them had been sitting down for years, their muscles rotting away. They had no weapons. A few of them were barely alive. Against a city full of guards and a barracks full of soldiers they'd stand no chance. But there might be another way.

Timod wiped his nose on his hand. "Hey, lads! Listen to me." A few of them turned around. "Hey. Listen to me. You know who I am, I'm Timod, Sheriff of Winterbridge. There's a way to end our misery, once and for all. Do you realize, lads? Fate has sent us a new King and he's just risked his life coming here to free us. You heard the Ithrim man say they're raising an army. So let's join them. We now have a choice. What shall we do, shall we stand together to try to defeat Ulric, or head back to our villages and more than likely get captured again, and then see the same happen to our sons, and their sons?"

A blond man shook his head, "How can a few of us men hope to stand against the King? We don't stand a chance against his army."

"But there's been uprisings all over the place," said Cultherd, Timod's cousin, addressing the crowd, "you all know that."

"A man came to our village asking us to join him in fighting against the King," said a tall bald man, speaking for the first time.

"Where was he from, how many of them were there?"

"No-one paid him much attention, and then later in the evening we found he'd been killed."

"You see, that's what'll happen to us," shouted a gray-bearded man with a big nose called Stufan, "mark my words! One way or another they'll get us!" He shuddered.

"What towns are we all from, men?" asked Timod, weaving in and out of the throng. Once he'd asked everyone, he returned to Mal and addressed the crowd again.

"There's nearly two hundred of us here. We've got men from every town and city in the west and south. If we can raise a few hundred men from each town to march with us, and we have the Ithrim and these wolves, we'll have an army. My wife is the granddaughter of Thane Shelton of Ralby. He won't support us openly, but he won't march for the King, and he told me most of the Thanes in the South are opposed to the King."

"I'll wager the older Thanes would be with us if they knew who he was," said Cultherd pointing to Mal.

The Talahund and Ithrim had listened in silence to the men's discussion. As a hush fell on the crowd, Giryan paced up to Mal and Timod, "We've been making weapons for years. We have enough for all of you and many more."

**

The men stood around in small groups, muttering. As the minutes ticked by Mal stepped awkwardly from one foot to the other. They were probably expecting him to say something. If they were raising an army and he was the rightful King, they'd be wanting him to make a rousing speech about leading them into battle – but time was up. There'd be soldiers here any minute. He stood still, swallowing as he felt his throat tighten.

Gared looked at him. The men had stopped talking and were just waiting, silently, to see what would happen next.

Then one of the former prisoners, a big man called Edwin, stepped forward, saying "The way I see it, brothers, we haven't really got much of a choice. If we go back to our towns and villages, having escaped from here when guards have been killed, we'll be called murderers, and we'll have a price on our heads. We don't like the idea of having to fight against the King, but at least we have the hope of getting things right again. And now we know he should never have been King in the first place. I say I'll fight with you, Timod and have this lad as our King." There were many murmurs of "aye", and nods and a few of the men slapped Edwin on the back.

Gared moved closer to Mal. "Perhaps you could say they'd be money in it for them, if they fight with you, Mal."

Mal flashed him a grateful smile. That was exactly the right thing to say. Clearing his throat, he turned to face the men. "Men of Arvad, I'd like to say that if you fight with us I'll make sure you get a good wage from Ulric's treasury, as well as your freedom, and the right to rebuild your homes." He had a flash of inspiration. "And, err, Timod, I hereby appoint you as Commander of the Army." Amid loud cheers, Mal found himself lifted onto Cultherd's shoulders as the men surged around Timod, slapping him on the back.

Giryan grabbed Timod's arm. "You should go now. It's too dangerous to stay here. Tell them to go, quickly." He looked into Timod's eyes. "We meet on the last bridge at sunset, ten days from today."

Timod nodded. He darted back into the prison and grabbed a sword. Pushing into the middle of the throng, he took a deep breath. "Go, now, men. We need to hurry. When you get home, give my greetings to your Sheriff, ask him if you can call a meeting in the town square, and tell the men of your town or village what we are doing. We'll meet on the Last Bridge, in ten days' time. Will you meet us there?" he asked, looking at Mal.

Mal nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I will." He turned to the Talahund. "Are we going to the castle before we leave the city? We have to find Yoldas."

Giryan looking at him, with pursed lips and a tight expression. "We cannot try entering the castle now. There is a power in there that you know nothing about. We have sought Yoldas in the prison, in the city, and he is not here. Now, we have to go the Dryads, and we need to go now. Ithrim and men alone will not have the power to defeat the King and his magic. Only with the Dryads' strength will we stand any chance against him. Let us depart."

Mal's mouth dropped open. Abandon Yoldas? There was no way he would do that. He would give his own life before he would knowingly let Yoldas suffer.

A man came running up. "They've heard us. There's guards coming from the castle. Quick! Run!"

Gared ran past Mal. "Quick, Mal, come on." He pulled his friend's arm.

"Yes, I'm going back for another one of those swords. I'll catch you up. See you in a minute." Mal stared at his friend for a minute as Gared ran off behind Ragnar. Then Mal turned and ran in the opposite direction.