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Chronicles of Arborell, Copyright Wayne Densley 2008 All Rights Reserved
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 Mallen reached the gates of Callenfrey just as the first sun of morning gleamed red against the horizon. It had taken the remainder of the night hours for him to make the distance to the gates, and as he approached the walls of the town he was filled with an aching fear of what he might find within.
As he had followed the winding road from the forest to the high stone battlements of his home he had witnessed a vision of devastation unfold before him. In the warmth of the night he had run, the fires of Callenfrey burning brightly against the darkness of the forest and the cool shimmer of the Grey Sea. He had watched the Harbour fires grow, spreading outwards in a firestorm of flame and smoke that consumed building after building as the conflagration raced through the narrow streets. From his vantage upon the hills he had seen it all, and in those few desperate hours had felt anxiety gnawing deep within him. He could be sure of only one thing as he ran, everything he held important lay within those burning walls.
At the gates of Callenfrey he stopped, breathing heavily and light-headed from the exertion of his run. Before he would enter the town he needed to regain his breath, and in those few moments try and shake the fatigue that was threatening to overwhelm him. Looking about, he could see in the morning light that the walls were still intact. From a number of points upon the western battlements there hung long black ropes, the bodies of a few Hordim lay slumped over the parapet, a few more upon the narrow area of cleared ground that separated the Walls from the forest that surrounded them. It was as he stood there, struggling to regain his composure that he noticed the glint of something metallic at his feet. Bending down he found the object of his distraction to be a small, long bladed dagger, embedded to its hilt in the soft ground. Carefully he pulled it free and wiped it clean upon his sweat soaked tunic. The grip was crudely tied with leather thong but the blade itself was finely engraved and honed to a sharp edge. It was old and worn but he took it, in the back of his mind the thought that Hordim may still be within the town and this might be his only protection as he searched for his brother.
Carefully he made his way to the gates and found them ajar. They were too heavy to be moved by the strength of a single man, the gatehouse held a set of mechanical gears that could be wound to open and close them when necessary. On this morning however, they were open, forced apart and hanging precariously by their pinions. There was just enough room to get between the two huge gates and Mallen squeezed through, his intention to make straight for his shop and hopefully a quick reunion with his brother. He was met on the other side of the gates by the glint of a razor-sharp spear tip.
"Who goes there!" The challenge sounded loud in the morning quiet, but the voice was hoarse and full with the heaviness of fatigue. The Guardsman who stood before him was covered in soot, his eyes red-raw with the irritation of smoke and ash. There was little wonder in Mallen's mind as to why he was not recognised.
"Greel? Is that you man?" Mallen met the challenge with a softer tone. He had known most of the Guardsmen since arriving in Callenfrey and could greet most by name. Greel was a better friend than most. He was also a good customer as well. Quickly he moved to the Guardsman's side and helped him to a barrel near the Gatehouse. The soldier looked like he was about to collapse.
"It's Master Cael isn't it? I'm sorry for the affront but we don't know if the Hordim'll be returnin'. As you can see we ain't in no state for another fight." Greel pointed in the general direction of the harbour and Mallen could see clearly the damage that had been done in the night. To the left of the Main Gates lay the Barracks Square. Upon its cobbled surface the few remaining Guardsmen were laying out their fallen comrades and the remains of those militiamen who had died fighting off their attackers. Other townsmen were hauling the bodies of dead Hresh into a central mound. It struck Mallen that there were not many Hordim here, the Hresh attack must have been as swift as it was deadly to have caught the town’s defenses so unprepared. There had been a major battle here, no doubt more of the Hordim would be found within the confines of the town's streets and laneways. The young Kalborean was under no allusion that the toll on the inhabitants of Callenfrey would prove to be far greater.
Looking eastwards, he could see clearly the smoking remains of the commercial district and the still burning pyres of his neighbours' houses. Mallen surveyed the whole scene with a growing anger and it shocked him to realise that somewhere within this mess of collapsed buildings and ruins could be his brother.
Quickly he found some water within the Gatehouse and moistened a rag for Greel's eyes. He could not help but notice the bodies of a number of soldiers lying within its walls. One was Greel's friend Armen. When Mallen returned to the Guardsman's side the older man saw the look on his face and quickly dispelled any concerns he might have had.
"Don't worry about Armen, he survived the battle only to fall from the parapet as we were chasing the Hordim off. Landed on his shoulder and has to lay absolutely still until the surgeon arrives to set the bones. He's not saying anything but I know its driving him crazy."
Greel smiled and leaned closer towards Mallen, his voice subdued as he spoke. "Truth is, a great harm has been committed here this past night. The Hordim were over the walls before any of us knew any better, and quickly within the town in greater numbers than we could possibly defend against. They had almost complete freedom for a good twenty minutes before the Townsfolk came together to chase them off. A great toll was taken and as you can see Callenfrey is a shambles because of it."
As Greel wiped the ash from his forehead Mallen asked the only question that now mattered to him.
"Have you seen Tomas since the attack? I fear that he has been caught unprepared and lies somewhere within this destruction."
Greel thought hard but could not say. “I cannot remember seeing him at all Master Cael. In the confusion of the night I could not say for certain who I might have seen. I am just glad that the morning is here at last." In this Mallen was in agreement. The night had been terrifying but the morning had brought with it a new set of fears, and he needed to move on quickly.
Mallen stayed only long enough to ensure his friend had some water and a clean rag to douse his eyes, then made his good-byes and started off for home. Just beyond the gatehouse lay a small junction of streets and laneways that then spread out into the town proper. His usual route home was completely blocked by mounds of smoking brick, and he found it difficult to gauge exactly where he was within the lines of charred buildings. It was as if he had stumbled by accident into someone else's town and could not find the way, but a few landmarks still stood and after a number of wrong turns Mallen found what remained of his store and workshop.
For a moment he stood quietly, taking in the mangle of what was once his home and livelihood. The fire that had destroyed his small world was still smouldering, a few blackened timbers still alive with flame. The conflagration that had reduced his home to ash had passed, but in its wake the debris had remained hot, very hot. The brickwork shimmered with heat and piles of partially melted copper and bronze lay within the ruin. He could not believe his brother could be within this mess but he knew he must look. Only when he had lifted every piece of rubble would he be satisfied that Tomas was not here.
In his heart he knew that because Tomas was not standing by his side at this moment that something had happened to him. They knew each other too well. If he had remained uninjured after the Hordim attack Tomas would have been here waiting for him to arrive, probably with Shemwe on his arm. The fact that he was not could only mean that Tomas was either dead, or trapped somewhere within the destruction that surrounded him. It was a thought that Mallen shook quickly from his mind before it could overwhelm him. He resolved instead to move quickly.
As the suns of morning rose in an orange glow above the horizon, Mallen set to work. With a stout piece of timber and a set of rags tied to his hands he began the laborious task of searching the debris. It was a search that would take most of the morning, hard grinding work which would turn up nothing more than a few blackened possessions and the twisted remains of his shop's stock in trade.
As he worked he noticed the faces of his neighbours as they passed. Most were still in shock, the few he asked about Tomas knew little, their words edged with the grief of their own losses. He had not slept but he worked feverishly, tossing aside broken wood and pushing through piles of debris as he worked the remains. In the end he found nothing that would help him. He decided then that he was looking in the wrong place.
With no sign of his brother he stepped back from the ruin and thought on where he might have gone. If the Hordim attack had been as swift as Greel had said then the shop would have been one of the first buildings to be torched. Its prominent position in the street would have ensured its destruction. The fact that Tomas' body was not here meant that he had got out of the building before it collapsed. With the shop aflame Tomas would have moved on without a second thought. Mallen had no allusions as to his brother’s commitment to the shop. His brother saw the business as merely a way to make a living. He would not have stayed to defend it and that meant he would have moved on. The only other thing of importance to Tomas in Callenfrey was Shemwe. If he had survived the attack then that is where he would have gone.
Throwing his makeshift tools down into the smouldering dirt he wiped his face and began the short walk to Shemwe's house. It struck Mallen as somewhat remarkable that so many people had survived the devastation of the night. All about him the usually tidy streets and laneways of Callenfrey were strewn with rubble, people's personal belongings lay in heaps awaiting collection, and the bodies of dead animals still smoked where they had fallen. But everywhere he could also see his fellow townspeople, somehow alive and beginning the long task of rebuilding their shattered lives. People were missing though, he had heard from one of his neighbours that the dead had been removed earlier that morning, laid out within the cooler confines of Callenfrey's Town Hall for formal identification. A number of people were still unaccounted for and Mallen resolved himself to the grim task of searching for his brother there if he did not find him at Shemwe's.
Through the streets he walked, negotiating the mounds of rubble that threatened to block off most of the access streets to the Harbour. Shemwe lived with her parents close to the warehouse district that bordered the docks. It heartened Mallen to find that even though the docks had been burnt, most of the houses at their edge had survived, the fire spreading to the west and north, leaving the eastern section of the town relatively intact.
At the third house from the corner of a small lane, Mallen found the front door to Shemwe's home. It had been smashed and unhinged, victim to a battering that had crushed it inwards. He could not remember how many times he had ascended the three stone steps that led to Shemwe's door in search of Tomas. Never in his worst nightmares did he expect to be doing so under such circumstances. Quickly he pushed past the entrance and found the ground floor a shambles of broken furniture and upturned belongings. Blood lay splattered over the walls near the front door and a large pool of blood had barely dried upon the floorboards. With anxiety grinding into his chest he called loudly into the recesses of the house for his brother.
"Tomas! Tomas, are you here. It's Mallen!"
Almost immediately there was the sounds of movement from up stairs. Mallen could hear someone, or something, moving across the second floor's wooden boards, towards the staircase that led downstairs. Grabbing his dagger from his belt he crept to the base of the stairs and waited with weapon poised.
What he found was the stooped shape of a woman, her voice thin with age and mired in sadness.
"Is that you Mallen?" It was Shemwe's mother, Madame Sandofel. Mallen raced up the stairs and grabbed her just as she appeared to faint. She was a large woman and he could only help her to sit against the wall of the narrow corridor that connected the upstairs bedrooms. She did not look well at all. Mallen needed to know what happened to his brother and his soft spoken words could not hide the haste with which he needed an answer.
"Madame Sandofel, do you know where my brother is?"
Shemwe's mother stared at Mallen for a moment and then replied. "In all truth, Master Cael, I do not know where your brother is. Tomas arrived here at the height of the Horde attack looking for Shemwe and left just as quickly when he found that she was at a friend’s home over on Abbots Lane." Her voice held a terrible loss trapped within its folds and she almost broke down as she went on.
"I tell you Mallen, he was alive when he left me here. My poor husband Garen is dead and I feared for Shemwe. Tomas promised me he would find her and bring her to safety. But I have heard tell of a great battle fought at the Barracks Square and now I fear for them both. Neither have returned and there is talk within the town of people having been taken by the Horde."
Mallen grabbed a hold of her arm and looked her squarely in the eye. "Who told you of this?"
"It was the men who came to collect Garen. All casualties of the attack have been taken to the Town Hall for certification. When I asked whether anybody had been brought into the Hall with red hair they just looked at me queer like, and said that they had not seen anyone like that. It was rumoured though that some people were missing, taken as prisoners. A number of families had come forward to say they could not find sons and daughters. I am deathly afraid that something terrible has happened."
Mallen could see that Madame Sandofel was afraid for her daughter. He knew wherever Shemwe was, Tomas would be there too.
"Have you gone to the Hall to search the bodies for yourself?"
"No Mallen I have not. Tomas left a small child here with me last night. As we talk she sleeps in the far bedroom, exhausted from the horrors of the attack. I must wait for her relatives to collect her. The Town Administrator is trying to track down her nearest family but with so many orphaned children it will take time. Could you go and look for me? It would be a service that I could entrust to few else."
Mallen smiled and agreed immediately. "I will search the town until I find what has happened to them. Look after yourself Madame Sandofel, and look after Tomas' foundling. It's just like him to find a stray even in the worst of times."
Madame Sandofel gave him her best wishes and sent him on his way. It was not long before he again found himself upon the streets, and he was surprised to find that they were beginning to return to life. The shock and sorrow of the morning had given way to anger and determination. The Horde was not going to cower the survivors of Callenfrey. Work gangs were already at work clearing some of the more important lanes of rubble. Others were collecting piles of clothing and personal effects that had been dropped by the retreating Hresh. As Mallen passed by one of the gangs he considered the hard fact that such work might give him the employment he would need to get his business going again. He could see a long road ahead, but it was one he had traveled before and he was not afraid of it. To do it again however, without his brother Tomas, was unthinkable.
The Town Hall was situated in the eastern part of Callenfrey, a tall stone building large enough for most of the ceremony and administration that a town of its size required. As he walked down the debris-littered streets he could see the bell tower rising up ahead through wisps of lingering smoke. He had plenty to think on as he went.
Mallen was now piecing together what might have happened to his brother during the night. Attacked at the shop he had made his way to Shemwe's house, picking up the girl on the way. Not finding Shemwe there he had then gone on to Abbots Lane, but something had happened and now he was missing. He was not looking forward to the job at hand, but it was the only thing left that he could do. It seemed the longest walk of Mallen's life as he made his way purposefully to the Town Hall. There he would find the gruesome job of certification under way.
It was one of the burdens of life in the Kalborean Union that everything done by its citizens was under continuous scrutiny. Although most of the Union still enjoyed a level of personal freedom everything was recorded, the bureaucracy of the State a heavy hand on most Kalborean's lives. A person's life was certified at birth, recorded as they lived and then certified again upon their death. For the Guild of Administrators this was a necessary function in the orderly administration of Kalborea. Most often it was seen as a hindrance, but in extreme circumstances such as this, it would now prove essential. Given time the Town Administrators would officially identify every person who died in the attack, and then appropriate help would be offered from the Town's coffers to the surviving relatives. Mallen's hope was that his brother was not one of the many bodies that would be laid out in the Town Hall.
Callenfrey's only municipal building was an imposing structure, if somewhat unremarkable in style and design. Built of stone and brick it towered over the closely spaced residences around it. Mallen could see that the Town Hall had not come through the night's attack unscathed. As he climbed the worn steps at its entrance he found large scorched areas on its doors and across the entranceway. A fire had been started here but had not taken hold.
At the open doors he was met by a Guardsman, one of the Town's few remaining garrison. He looked in desperate need of sleep but went about his duty as efficiently as he could. Mallen explained his need to enter and was allowed to pass into the cool interior of the building. The Town Hall was essentially a large meeting area surrounded by a few smaller annexes. Banners, and the complicated heraldry of the twelve city states of Kalborea hung from the walls, the floor worn by years of service to a dull sheen. On long wooden plaques, the rolls of Callenfrey’s most honoured citizens were displayed at the far end. The only furniture that remained at that end of the hall was a long table, about which resided twelve large ceremonial chairs. It was in this meeting place that he found a gruesome business under way.
Across the length of the hall lay row after row of bodies, covered with sheets and tagged at the ankles. In the midst of these white rows were men and women, checking each of the bodies in turn, looking for family members or friends. Mallen was not sure he was capable of such a search, and it was with some relief that he noticed a large list that had been scrawled with chalk upon a near wall. It was a list of the dead.
Other townsfolk had crowded around the casualty roll looking for any sign of their missing. More than one hundred and fifty names were marked as identified, some ten more were unknown. Mallen carefully checked the lists but could not see his brother there. Shemwe was not listed either. He would need to check the faces of the unidentified if he was to find either his brother, or Tomas' fiancee.
Looking around he found one of the Administrators working at a small table, diligently completing the certification process of the fallen. In the midst of the dead the bureaucrat seemed unmoved. Dressed in the green robes of his Guild he performed his work, quill in hand, somehow disengaged from the horrors that surrounded him. Such a man held the information Mallen needed. If he was to look at the unidentified bodies he would need to know where they were placed. Steeling himself for a gruesome task he began to walk over to the Administrator’s table, but was stopped by the sight of the Guardsman Greel motioning to him from the entranceway.
Struck by the urgency with which Greel was gesticulating, Mallen turned and walked back out to where the Guardsman was standing.
"What can I do for you Greel?"
The Guardsman had cleaned up since their last meeting and was obviously anxious to speak with him.
"It would seem young Master that I have some news on what happened to your brother." He pulled Mallen over to the side of the entranceway and his voice became softer. "The Town Administration does not yet want it known but a number of Townsfolk were taken in the attack. Your brother was one of them."
Mallen was silent for a moment as he tried to fathom Greel's words. Questions crowded his mind but the Guardsman had more to say.
"During the attack the Hresh burned and killed everything they could find. They stayed their hand though on a few of the townsfolk that they encountered. Kidnapping them instead, they took them over the walls as they retreated, none of them have been found here or outside the walls. Your brother was seen at the Barrack Square, but he got no further. The Hresh took him."
Mallen couldn't believe it. "How do you know this? Did someone see him taken? Why should they take my brother when so many others were killed?"
Greel looked squarely into the eyes of the young Kalborean, the answer to Mallen's last question made no sense to him either, "He was seen at the Square and was felled by a blow to the head. This I now know from one of the survivors of that battle. The fact that they took him is evident because his body has not been found. If he had indeed been killed at the Square his remains would be amongst the dead or injured. But the strangest thing of all is that all the missing have something in common and I'll tell you now that I do not understand it."
"What is it Greel?" Mallen's voice was full of a growing anxiety, the stress of the day starting to overwhelm him.
Greel scratched at his neck and replied, "All the missing have red hair, whether young or old, they all have the same flaming red hair. Your brother Tomas was seen at the Square and now he is gone. But young master, this is not your only concern."
Mallen could see tension written all over the Guardsman's face, there was a harder truth still to be told.
"I do not know whether your brother is still alive, but the Hordim had a purpose in taking him, and that should give you hope. They would not encumber themselves with such unusual prisoners if not for a very good reason. Your brother's greatest danger lay in the what will happen when the Hresh war party is caught."
The young Kalborean considered the Guardsman's words but could not see what he meant. "I don't understand. Why would my brother's rescue be a danger?"
"Mallen, the Kalborean Union does not take such attacks lightly. As we speak the word is going out to all the garrisons along the coast. Both soldiery and militia are being mobilised and it will only be a matter of time before the Hordim are cornered. The first thing the Hresh will do when they are is kill all their prisoners. They do not allow those that they capture to escape, no matter the circumstances. As soon as the Hresh realise they are trapped your brother will die."
Mallen stared for a moment at the cold, hard stone of the entranceway and then looked out over the smoking ruins of the town. His business had been destroyed, his only family in the hands of the Horde. It took only an instant for him to decide what he must do. He would go after his brother and bring him back. No matter how long it took, no matter the dangers that might be faced, he was not going to leave Tomas to the mercy of the Hordim. He would need Greel's help though.
"Greel, I am going to find my brother and bring him back, but I need your help. I have no money, no food nor equipment, but if I am to track the Hordim effectively I am going to have to start now and pick up the warband's trail before it goes cold."
The Guardsman rubbed his chin and smiled. "I think we might be able to get you geared up pretty quickly actually. Come with me."
Greel took Mallen down the steps of the Town Hall and into the street. Quickly they made their way back to the main gates and the Gatehouse that lay beside them. Within the Gatehouse Mallen found piles of clothing and other personal belongings that had been collected from the streets. Greel looked quite pleased with himself.
"Have a quick look through this lot Master Cael. I'm sure you'll find most of the things you might need for travel right here."
The Guardsman was right. As Mallen sifted through the belongings he found clothing, a well used travel cloak and all the personal equipment he might need for a journey. Greel gave him a backpack and a small pouch full of coins. It was more kindness than Mallen was used to, or could tolerate.
"No Greel, you have done enough this day. I do not know how I shall ever begin to repay you."
Greel pushed the money into Mallen's hands and would hear none of his remonstrations. "I think Master Cael that you will need every bit of help you can find at this time. But there is one thing that you will need that cannot be found in this pile of belongings."
With that he disappeared into the back of the Gatehouse. As Mallen packed his new found equipment into his backpack Greel returned, holding a sword in one hand and a new leather scabbard in the other. "For personal protection", was all he said as he handed the weapon over.
Within the hour Greel had somehow managed to provide Mallen with all the equipment he would need for his journey. From stout boots to rope and a sword, the Soldier had scrounged everything that he required and by mid afternoon Mallen found himself ready to depart. Greel had one final word for the young Kalborean.
"Within the day a unit of Rangers will be arriving in Callenfrey with the express orders of hunting down the Hordim. If you are to save your brother you will have to find him, and take him from the Hordim, before the Rangers catch up with the warband. At most you will have a headstart of maybe 24 hours."
Mallen put his hand out and Greel accepted it. "I guess I'd better get a move on then," he said. Grabbing his pack and a wide-brimmed hat that he had found within the piles of clothing he made for the door, and was soon standing before the gates of Callenfrey. He took one final look at the town and then remembered something important.
"Greel, can you do one final thing for me? Madame Sandofel needs to be told that I could not find her Shemwe. Tell her what I am doing. Tell her that if her daughter was taken by the Horde then Tomas will be with her. I would appreciate it."
Greel nodded and helped Mallen through the gates. The Guardsman watched as the young Kalborean walked out into the afternoon sunlight and then disappeared quickly into the forest.
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Chronicles of Arborell, Copyright Wayne Densley 2008 All Rights Reserved
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