The Betrayed by Igor Ljubuncic

two men, while keeping away as much as possible.
    “Put those swords down before you cut yourself,” the second man growled. He sheathed his own weapon.
    “Who are you kids?” the first asked, joining the commotion.
    Ewan’s eyes sought Duvall; he was nowhere to be found. “We’re from the monastery to the god Lar. We escaped when the…those riders attacked us.” He paused. “Who were they?”
    The two soldiers exchanged glances. “Caytoreans, may the gods curse them forever,” the first one said.
    “What are your names?” the second asked.
    They introduced themselves. The two men were called Boris and Sedric.
    Boris, the man who had sneaked behind them, snorted when Ewan finished the story. “You’re one lucky bunch. We lost almost all our men fighting the Caytoreans. But they were too strong. They surprised us.”
    The two men told their tale in bits. A detachment from Talmath, they were patrolling the area, when they were ambushed by a large contingent of Caytoreans. Holding out as long as they could, they fought against impossible odds before retreating to the city to find it besieged. In the end, they were forced to flee toward Eracia. By all accounts, the Caytoreans now controlled the entire region.
    “Where is the Caytorean army camped?” Ewan asked.
    Sedric punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Think like a soldier, eh? Why, you wanna strike at them?” The two men guffawed.
    I was hoping to avoid them, he thought. “No.”
    “They are everywhere. They got large camps all around Talmath, and small ones along the border. But more of their numbers are crossing every day. It’s no longer safe here. We must retreat north and west. Our men are there.”
    “We must go south,” Ewan sputtered. Speann.
    “You got a fever, boy?” Boris growled.
    Duvall appeared suddenly. He looked winded.
    “Who’s that?” Boris asked, pointing.
    “That’s Duvall, he’s a senior brother,” Rais said.
    Ewan kept quiet, his rage simmering.
    Ignoring the looks, pretending nothing had happened, Duvall joined the conversation. He instantly agreed with the soldiers.
    Ewan shook his head. “I’m going south, alone if I have to.”
    “What’s south that’s so important you gonna risk your life for it?” Boris insisted.
    Sedric stepped close. “Look, boy. This is not a game. Those Caytoreans ain’t here to play. They are sweeping the area, village by village, and killing everyone systematically. They are well trained and heavily armed. A thousand of you would not stand a chance.”
    The young brother listened carefully. He knew they were making sense, but he could not accept their words for truth. Just could not.
    Sedric continued. “They advance northwest, then send battalions flanking back in semicircles, on both sides, closing after the main body. The longer we stay here, there’s a fair chance one of the tails is gonna catch up with us. And they could come from both south and east; there’s no knowing until too late. That’s how we got ambushed. Those Caytoreans know the business of war well.”
    “We cannot just leave people to die,” Ewan spoke, adamant.
    “Bloody Abyss, you’re hotheaded as a mule, boy!” Boris exclaimed, slapping his thighs. The two warriors exchanged glances. “Let’s give him a chance, eh?”
    “South,” Sedric ceded.

CHAPTER 6
     
    C ombat was nothing like Adam had expected. They had been roused from bed too early and given real weapons for the first time. Each one had been issued a jerkin of boiled leather, most with steel scales flaking off the cracked, moldy skin, and a ten-foot spear.
    Then, they had been boxed together so they breathed nothing but each other’s sweat and marched in an unknown direction.
    And now they stood, waiting. Slightly taller than the average man, Adam could see ahead of him, a field of parched grass and what looked like a wall of soldiers. No friends of his, he thought. Strangely, he felt unafraid. A twisted feeling of elated bitterness