The Chronicles: Notomol

Journal Entry #28, late Autumn, 937

Yadha was correct. The news of Dienik's steading was spreading all over Stonje - and probably even elsewhere in Hvad. Yes, Notomol and the rest of us had made several successful attacks. But whoever assaulted the steading had captured it, and killed every last Izumyrian in the garrison. We had stung the invaders; this was more of a slap in the face - a blow to their pride. They would have to answer this.

When we learned that Baron Harke was headed towards us, the gossip and back-biting ceased. Vidrik began to actively cooperate with Notomol, with Yadha, Doreg and Dubek. They discussed the best course of action: should we retreat into the wilderness, or split up, and make our way to safer places in smaller groups?

I was pleased to see that most were against running away, or hiding. But how could 30 of us ambush or attack 100 front-line fighters?

***

Two of them - three of us.

The band of Hvadi who'd attacked Dienik's steading wanted to meet our leader. Yadha Snakehand brought us the news, because they made contact through a friend of his.

- "What if it's a trap?" asked Doreg.

- "S'not." said Yadha.

- "How many of them are there?"

- "I've no idea."

- "We have to meet them, Doreg." said Notomol. "There's a chance that we could work together - they want some idea of what to expect before they agree to co-operate."

- "And they want to see our leader?" said Dubek. "That smells like an ambush. They could be collaborators - men who've followed their Ban into the enemy's service."

- "They're not." said Yadha.

- "We have to meet with them." said Notomol.

- "You should think twice about this." said Dubek.

- "I have."

Vidrik, I noticed, didn't try to talk him out of it.

- "I'll go with you." I said.

- "As will I." said Motekin.

- "There you are." said Notomol. "I'll have an escort."

Yadha went off to set up a meeting. Motekin immediately began having second thoughts.

- "What if this

is

a plot against you? What if they just want to get you alone?"

- "If a Hvadi wanted to kill me, Motekin, he or she could simply join our band, and stab me when my back was turned. Or when I'm sleeping."

- "We'll have to do something about that." said Dubek. "Assuming, of course, that nobody murders you today."

- "Let's hope not." said Notomol.

It turned out to be two of them, and three of us. Notomol, Motekin, and me. On their side, a woman, and a man.

The man was a warrior. He had a long sword strapped to his back, a short sword and a long knife at his belt, and the hilt of yet another knife protruded from the top of his boot. His gear was well-worn, but of good quality.

His face was much the same. He might have been called handsome, back before I was born, but now his features were weather-beaten, and marked with scars. His hair was black, but streaked here and there with grey.

The woman was well past the first bloom of youth, but not yet old. Her hair was black, as well. As to her features ... from my exceedingly limited perspective, she seemed to be very attractive. The sadness in her light brown eyes only made her seem more beautiful.

- "My name is Nelime." she said. She pronounced it Nay-lee-may.

- "I know who you are, Lady." said Notomol.

- "Do you?"

- "Forgive me. I meant only that I had heard of you. I intended no disrespect." Notomol recovered swiftly. "May I present my companions? Kolasovets of Yeseriya, and Motekin of Hvad town."

Nelime took a good look at both of us. "You are far from home. How did you come to be in Stonje?"

- "We were Guardsmen, together." said Notomol. "Motekin, here, could tell the whole story in great detail - he is an annalist, a chronicler. But I can summarize, if you will."

Notomol proceeded to give a short account of our time together, from training with the Guardsmen, to the fight at the ferry dock, to our travels. He emphasized what we had seen at Dusova, and the people we had met along the way.

It took some time to relate everything we had done since then, but Notomol did an admirable job of communicating the essentials without boring our listeners - and that was a good thing: I had the feeling that Nelime and the man beside her were listening, but they were far more intent on taking Notomol's measure.

- "We heard a great deal about these blows you've struck." said the dark-haired man. I can't believe that you started with only five men."

- "I apologize." said Nelime. "I should have introduced my companion much sooner. This is Orsho."

The name meant nothing to me, of course, but it certainly resonated with Notomol.

- "I should have known at once." he said. "I apologize, Sir. Your fame precedes you."

- "No harm done, lad. You're well on your way to being more famous than I ever was." Orsho had a voice like a boat being dragged across a rocky strand.

I was completely confused. So was Motekin - and he didn't like it.

- "Excuse me, Lady - Sir. But ... not being from Stonje, I have no idea who you are."

- "Motekin - " said Notomol.

- "No. That's fair." said Nelime. "Let's tell each other the truth."

She began to tell Motekin her history. Nelime was the daughter (and 3rd child) of the Hospodar Dienik. When she was 14, he'd married her to the youngest son of the Ban of Stonje. Pregnant at 16, she'd been delivered of a stillborn child.

Her husband was most famous for drinking, and shagging any woman who would hold still long enough. He'd done everyone a favour, it seems, when he fell from his pony, and landed on his head, snapping his neck.

Widowed at 19, Nelime had promptly been married off to another promising young man. Her new husband fell ill with the slow fever, lingered for three years, and died.

There were no more 'acceptable' suitors for Nelime's hand (her opinion on the subject was never asked for). Considered 'bad luck', she remained at her father's court.

- "I ... I am so sorry, Lady." said Motekin.

- "There are worse fates."

Was this why Notomol had been deferential - why he had shown her such respect? It wasn't a question of her rank, or her birth, but rather sympathy for the life she'd been forced to lead.

Orsho was one of the most famous warriors in Stonje. He was the Hand of Harro, Dienik's oldest son.

The men of Stonje did not arrive in time for the Battle at the Gut; they turned around and marched for home. The Ban immediately began to consider the means - and advantages - of turning his coat.

Hospodar Dienik, too, had second thoughts: his sons were badgering him to follow the Ban's lead. Instead, the Hospodar went into hiding.

All three of his sons deserted their father, to join the Ban; they set out for Hvad town, to make their peace with the Izumyrians and seek the best terms they could get. One son - Harro - had to go without his Hand.

- "I couldn't support him any longer. Not against the Hospodar and the Duke. Not against fellow Hvadi." said Orsho. "Yes, I was a Guardsman too, in my day - back when it was still considered an honour. So when my Lord abandoned his father and his people, I stopped serving him."

"That was why I listened to Lady Nelime, when she came to me. She'd heard of the blows struck against the Izumyrians. We were all aware of what they were doing to our people - the thefts, the rapes, the beatings and murders."

"Hospodar Dienik was done, though. He was ... too old. Too tired." Orsho looked sad. Then he lifted his head. "But his daughter thought that we should fight - like this fellow Notomol. We began to gather support."

- "That was when we heard of your ambush." said Nelime. "There were only 25 Izumyrians left in the garrison. Five or six of those were wounded, or ill - and most of the officers were dead. How could we not take advantage of the opportunity?"

- "You took the steading." said Notomol.

Orsho met his eye. "We had friends inside, and many ways of getting fighters over the walls. It was no great battle: we caught them unawares, and we killed them all. I have no regrets about any of it."

- "But now we are committed." said Nelime. "We have people who fought for us. We have to feed them, and ... we wanted to meet you. To determine if we could trust you." Then she did the strangest thing: she looked straight at me.

"I believe that you are trustworthy."

I could only swallow, and nod - I was too nervous to speak. It was Notomol who raised an objection.

- "I'm only a forester." he said. "It might be wiser if ... if you took over the leadership, Orsho. In the Lady's name."

- "You've done pretty well, so far."

- "Minor ambushes. Little skirmishes. But the numbers are increasing all the time ..."

Orsho shook his head. "I'm a fighter, lad - not a general. You seem to have the gift. You pick the spots - and I'll do what I do best."

- "We can always discuss the leadership another time." said Nelime. "For now, we think that it should be you."

***

Journal Entry #30

Nelime and Orsho brought 35 people with them. This was a tremendous boost to our spirits, even though a dozen of them turned out to be non-combatants. But the fighters are a true blessing: many are veterans of the Hospodar's druzhina, or ex-Guardsmen, and there are four more archers among them.

Notomol is busily planning our next move. He confers with Doreg and Dubek, with Vidrik and Orsho, and then takes to the forest paths with Yadha and the brothers.

I now see that I was wrong about Vidrik, when I supposed that he had given up his campaign to undermine Notomol. He has many fresh ears to pour his grievances into.

Vidrik is nothing if not direct. He went straight to Nelime. Notomol is too young, he told her. Too inexperienced. He cannot lead a group this large; we need new leadership.

- "I came to join Notomol." said Nelime. And that was that.

You may wonder how I know this. Apparently a chronicler - a mere clerk - is beneath notice. No one pays the least attention to my comings and goings. I sat with my back to the bole of a tree, pretending to be busy with my journal, while Vidrik tried to work his charm on Nelime not ten feet away - just the other side of the tree.

I have watched him since. He gave up on Nelime, and went to work on Orsho, the Hand.

- "You should be the leader." Vidrik told him.

Orsho merely laughed. "There are leaders, and there are plain old fighters. You can't tell which one I am?"

Vidrik repeated his complaints about Notomol's youth and inexperience.

"Funny." said Orsho. "I've heard a lot about him - but not so much about you. So far, he seems to be doing fine. I'll let you know, though, when I think we need a new leader. Or maybe you should go talk to Nelime."

Vidrik and his friends have had to lower their sights considerably; now they try to win over individual members of Nelime's druzhina. I continue to watch them.

***

Notomol gathered us all together in a large glade - every single one of us, including the non-combatants.

- "The Izumyrians are coming." he said. "Baron Harke, with 100 men, if not more."

He let that sink in.

"Should we lose, it won't go well for us. For

any

of us - but especially not for the women. That's why I'm asking all of you to make a decision. If you decide to fight, I

will

demand a great deal of you. We'll all be at risk, at one moment or another."

"Please think it over. Tomorrow night, we'll meet again, at this spot. If you are here, then I'll expect that you understand the danger - and that you're willing to accept my orders, without question. If you choose to leave before then, I won't hold it against you."

That said, Notomol dismissed us.

I was more than a little confused. I'd had no idea what he was going to say. Even so, I hadn't expected

that

.

Late the next morning, he called me and Motekin to join him.

- "I'm sorry." he said. "I should've warned you. But I have to make sure that we can trust whoever remains. I can't risk someone slipping away to warn the Izumyrians, once I share the plan with everyone."

- "I knew you had a plan." said Motekin. His eyes were bright - almost feverish.

- "I do. And I need your help - both of you."

***

One of Doreg's friends chose not to stay with us; he'd been spooked by Notomol's warning. Two of Nelime's non-combatants and one of her fighters also decided to leave.

I couldn't blame them. Notomol had been deliberately vague. Undeterred, he gathered the rest of us.

- "Thank you." he said. "Thank you for staying. Now that you're here, I have to warn you again: if you try to leave, or to communicate our plan to the enemy, I'll have you killed. Without a second thought. No pity. No mercy."

I had to blink. I'd never heard Notomol speak this way.

"We can do this - but only if the Izumyrians don't suspect what we're up to until it's too late. That's why I'm putting you into groups of three. You may not know the other two members of your trio, yet - but you will."

The whole purpose of these groupings, he explained, was so that no one could slip away, and take news of our plan to the enemy. We were to watch each other. The moment that one of our trio tried to sneak away ... we were to kill them.

Notomol then told us who our partners were to be. I ended up with Miks - the one friend of Vidrik who could use a bow - and Olari, an archer from Orsho's druzhina.

It took a great deal of time, to call out the names of all the trios. The cumulative effect was to make us all wonder about the trustworthiness of the people we were grouped with. But it also reminded us of the seriousness of our endeavour. We didn't need to be told more than once - many of us weren't going to survive. And if anything went wrong ...

most

of us wouldn't.

Finally, Notomol explained his plan.

***

The first group he called 'the Lure'. Nelime and Motekin led the non-combatants - but mixed among them were 'the Sting', composed of Notomol himself, and all of our best archers: Cinna and Cirola, Senderra and Evane, Aunam, and four of Nelime's fighters.

And me.

The hardest part of our appointed task was the waiting.

Notomol - and our greatest of resources, Yadha Snakehand - had spread the news of our location. Izumyrian scouts found us. We killed one, to get their attention, and then retreated in haste.

They pursued, and found our camp, which looked to be hastily abandoned. We'd left fires lit, some odds and ends of equipment, a bit of spoiled food and a few tattered old blankets.

Convinced that he was right on our heels, Baron Harke drove his men to keep up with us. They caught sight of us, every now and then. Notomol let them get close, but always kept us just out of their reach.

The Izumyrians pursued us through the woods for almost two leagues. It felt like an incredibly long way; distances always seem greater in the forest, over rough terrain.

Finally, we reached the point where the path began to dip, and then descended quite sharply. It was cooler here: the canopy was thicker, and less sunlight penetrated through the trees. It was noticeably more humid, too.

The reason for that soon became apparent: this lower ground was a vast bog.

- "Deadman's bog." Notomol told us. "Yes, it's an ill-omened name - but for the Izumyrians, because we're going to use it against them."

Once we had made our promises to remain, he had taken all of the fighters down there, to show us where we would bring the enemy to bay.

It was perhaps 800 yards long, and between 400 and 600 yards wide. Deadman's bog was a foul-smelling, treacherous swamp. There were little ponds of scummy water on the surface, where small animals came to drink, and other animals came to hunt and feed.

There were three paths across it. One didn't go all the way. Two others did, though they overlapped each other twice on the way.

- "There's one more path, that exits to the side." he said. "I'm not going to show it to you, and we have to hope that the Izumyrians won't find it. And you

must not

step off the path. If you do, we won't have time to stop and help you."

He took us to the very end of the safe paths. The ground rose a little here. It was dryer, and firmer underfoot. After that, though, a person would have to scale a near-vertical cliff, twenty to twenty-five feet high.

- "It's a difficult climb." said Notomol. "There are really only three places where it can be done - and for two of those, you need your hands free."

Notomol spent a great deal of time explaining our roles to us. The Lure - Nelime, Motekin and the non-combatants - would tempt the Izumyrians to pursue them, and then lead our foes into the bog.

Only Motekin balked at his role.

- "Are you trying to keep me out of the fighting? I can fight!"

- "I know you can. But not this time, Motekin. We need a record of this battle. Who can do that, other than you?"

With his pride assuaged and his vanity served, Motekin was more amenable. It made me wonder, though; what were

my

weaknesses? Did Notomol play upon me the same way?

The second group - the Sting - was composed of all our archers, plus four of Nelime's fighters. Those men, I think, were there to make sure that the Hospodar's daughter was never in serious danger. The archers, though, could slow down the pursuit, by targeting the most eager and energetic of the enemy.

Crossing the twisting paths through the bog was especially nerve-wracking. Notomol and Yadha led the way, with the rest of us following in single file. They warned each person behind them to step

exactly

where they did.

Of course, it had to happen: one of the non-combatants, a woman, slipped off the path and fell into the treacherous muck. We all knew what Notomol had said.

Still, he came hustling back down the path.

- "Don't move, Desinda. Lie still." Of course he knew her name. How did he do that? Notomol talked to her calmly, soothingly.

"We aren't going to leave you. But you have to stop squirming. Try to float."

Notomol held out his bow to her, to give her something to grab onto.

In the end, though, Notomol had to lean out over the bog, with Cinna and Cirola holding him by the belt. He took Desinda's hands, and slowly, gradually pulled her out of that awful muck. She clung to him like a drowning woman - which she was.

It took a long time to extract her from the bog. In those lost moments, the Izumyrians came far too close to catching us. Nelime's fighters prepared to sell their lives dearly. Aunam and I, on one path, and Senderra and Evane, fired arrows which helped to keep them at bay.

What helped the most, though, was when a few of our over-eager pursuers fell into the bog themselves. The Izumyrians began to realize the dangerous situation they were in.

With Desinda safe, we finally resumed our progress. Soon enough, we reached the base of the cliffs. There were three ropes hanging there, over the easiest routes to the top. Ermanar and Dusca, the big spear-woman, with three of our local recruits, waited at the top to assist us as we climbed.

Now it was a simple matter of getting our folk up the cliff before the Izumyrians caught up. Nelime was among the first, of course.

It was agonizing to watch our non-combatants try to climb. They slipped. They struggled. Desinda, in her exhausted state, wasn't going to be able to climb at all.

Notomol put her over his shoulder, and carried her - just as he had Motekin, after the fight at the ferry dock. Was that really just a few months ago?

The Izumyrians were having their own struggles with the paths through the bog. Two or three of them had already fallen in. As for the men at the front of the single file, they were no longer quite so eager - not when there were a dozen archers prepared to pepper them with arrows.