Chapter 9

Rowan and his party were indeed having nearly all of the trouble that they could handle. And their epic journey down-river was one that the gléaman could and did tell countless times in the years afterwards.

They were making very fast time going back down the river, paddling hard with their oars along with the current to make even greater speed than The Lady Ellyn had made going upriver with sail. They thought that they could reach the island before dawn, under cover of darkness and perhaps catch the Boar-Men asleep, weary and off-guard from their feasting.

"I swear by The Seven..." Rowen softly muttered to Boyle, who was rowing right behind him and humming along to one of the Foole's tunes, "that I'm going to have my revenge against the Lady Ayleth. I'm certain that the heartless cunt deliberately sent us out here to die! Well I'm not going to oblige her!"

"That's the spirit! Besides, being 'er appointed Champion, I'm pretty certain that you're not going to be allowed to do any of a great number of pleasant things that we might enjoy doing to 'er. You took some oaths ... and other things. Besides, it's bad form to take your burning sword to a stupid young girl without much actual sense in 'er formerly pretty little 'ead. Let me handle 'er punishment! I've certainly sworn no oaths to protect and defend 'er! In fact, I have rather a very suitable punishment in mind, if you will allow me the pleasure?"

"Alright, how can I refuse such cunning logic ... and not even from our Fool! Besides, I've seen the way you look at her sometimes."

"So, despite the fact that she has an unpleasant and rather superficial personality, and is often cruel to everyone around her, and sometimes tries to get friends of mine pointlessly killed ... she does have a few positive traits, and she isn't quite entirely wicked and evil! Besides, some portions of her do remain rather decorative!"

The friends quietly laughed and paddled hard for much of the night without rest until about two hours before dawn, the party saw once more the dark nighttime shadows of Dead Tree Island straight ahead of them. Resting their oars and crouching their bodies as low into the canoes as possible to avoid letting their silhouettes be seen accidently against the setting moon behind them, they allowed their coasting boats to gently ride along with the current up onto the mud flats of the island's shoreline. Much like the other riverbank nearby, the island's shoreline was swampy and had plenty of tree and brush cover for the rescue party to hide their boats.

Once ashore, they listened carefully for a few minutes but heard no signs that their presence had been detected. Now, with weapons in hand, the six companions met in a circle and spoke in whispers to plan their strategy of attack. Just a few minutes travel into the brush of the island, they should find the outskirts of the former town, now the Boar-Men's war-camp. Stealth, it was decided was more valuable than an attack by surprise; if they could find and rescue the prisoners secretly, without disturbing the camp, and escape without being detected at all, that would be more than enough of a victory to satisfy nearly everyone.

Careful as they were, Rowan was afraid that they were going to lose the concealing cover of darkness, but the Lore-Master had assured him that neither day nor night made much of a difference either way. Some scouts and scholars even maintained that the Eorfleode even preferred to be active at night as the purity of daylight hurt their eyes. This was nonsense, the Lore-Master had explained to everyone earlier, day or night meant little difference to either their hunting or their rest. All that mattered now was how recently they had feasted and how much ale or wine they had drunk, for stores captured in the sack of the town. The Boar-Men loved to drink any and all alcohol that they could get their clawed hands upon. The stronger the better! They also had their own unique home produced beer made from fermented grain and wild grasses, and the Histrio assured them that this brew was too awful and raw for most men to stomach, and was best to be left alone if discovered.

In the darkness of the early morning before dawn, the camp was luckily quite still, and it was Oddtus who bade everyone to wait for a few minutes while he quickly spied out the camp. No one, he assured them, was quieter and sneakier than a gléaman, scooting away from an unpaid inn bill, or a joculator, scampering away from an unfriendly audience! He wasn't gone for more than five minutes and when he returned he quickly explained what everyone would need to do.

"We're just about right where we need to be already." The Foole whispered, as he gave out their assignments. "They've feasted well this week, and particularly heavily last night. Most are fat, dumb and happy and snoring away in their animal skin tents, mostly on the northern side of the island to our right. The captives, and there are not many of them left, are in one of the old buildings right near the center open area of the old town green, where they've set up their cooking pits and roasting spits ... and I'd advise you not to dwell much on the pitiful remains of the poor folks that were stuck upon them. Here is the plan. Some of the captives are going to need help getting back to our boats, and it's going to be a very tight squeeze fitting everyone in just our two canoes. We had hoped to rescue more than just the dozen or so survivors that are left, so maybe we can make do with just finding another big canoe or two. You two men from Silana, go back to the canoes and keep them ready them for a very fast departure and help the rescued captives into the boats. Tory, go search quickly and quietly along the island shore to see if you can find another canoe, or even better get two! There may be more of captives I haven't seen, but we haven't space enough for everyone as it is now, and we need at least another big boat, so don't fail us! Boyle, you will stay by my side but walk quietly, you're not in a barn tonight! I'll need you to help carry out any of the weak or wounded. Rowan, you stay near our sides also, but you will need to keep alert for any guard or patrols and deal with them — preferably as quickly and quietly as possible. The prisoners had a guard out in front of their prison but I've slit his throat already while he was sleeping, but another might come, so everyone stay sharp!"

Everyone nodded, and they began to execute their plan, hoping that everything would go without a hitch and that they, and the rescued captives, would be long gone before the sun rose over the river.

At first the plan went frighteningly smoothly and without a hitch. Oddtus and Boyle slunk quietly between the frames of old ruined or burned out wooden houses until they arrived at the back door of a still sturdy one story brick building that faced onto the town square. All of the window glass had been long broken but thick pieces of raw wood had been crudely nailed to form a barred barrier to escape for those kept imprisoned inside. Looking into a gap of one of the covered windows, Boyle could see about a dozen tied captives, some asleep but some now becoming aroused by the activity outside. After a brief consultation, it was decided that it would be faster (and much quieter) for Boyle to pry off the wood from the indifferently barred windows than it would be to force the back door, which appeared to be rather securely nailed shut.

Rowan moved to a better vantage place across the street so that he could watch for patrols. He soon did sight a single rather tired appearing patrolling Boar-Man on the far north side of square, but he seemingly showed little interest in his duties. As he was no present danger to anyone, Rowan signaled that all was safe and that the extraction of the captives could begin.

Further good news arrived a few minutes later as Boyle was pulling away the last nailed bit of wood preventing him from now lifting out the captives through the window to safety, when Tory trotted up to report that he had found two more canoes, one large and one smaller nearby, and that he and the townsmen had already moved all four boats together and they were now in readiness for a fast escape. It would still be a very tight squeeze for space in the long but narrow canoes, but at least now all of the captives could be rescued, and none would have to remain behind due of want of transport.

The window now fully exposed and open, Boyle then quickly climbed inside so that he could begin cutting the crude rope bonds of the prisoners and slowly, one by one, he lifted them out through the window into the safe arms of the Foole. Tory, then in turn, escorted small groups of the survivors back down the wooded path back to the beach, and safety. This was not a swift task to accomplish, and Rowan began to fret that no matter how quickly his friend moved, it was still taking too long to move the dozen or so prisoners out of the open window. Already, Rowan thought that he could see the first glow of dawn appearing on the eastern horizon directly upriver. It was then that an unexpected tragedy derailed the rest of their calculated escape plan.

Goodwife Leresia had watched her young daughter be eaten first, alive and screaming, at the war-chief's own table. Young and especially tender, she was a particular delicacy to the Boar-Men leaders that ordered the roasting of most of the rest of her fellow villagers. This was done and they were devoured without the slightest taint of compassion or mercy. She had watched her husband go to the spit yesterday and heard his screams of pain while he was roasted alive seemingly for hours. Now, with both of her loved ones gone, her mind was now quite entirely undone by grief. When Boyle came to cut her bonds and lift her out to freedom, in her madness she did not recognize his kindly round race in the dark, but instead just saw another Boar-Man, coming now for her. She screamed at the top of her lungs the cries of a woman who has seen the terrors of each of the seven hells while yet living. Boyle make quick to cover the terrified woman's mouth as he lifted her out to the waiting hands of the Foole, but he could not stifle her terror. Faced with yet another stranger, she bit hard into Oddtus's right thumb as he tried to comfort and soothe her. With her mouth now unrestrained, her horrible screams of terror pierced the early morning air and she fled wildly into the darkness of the island woods, still screaming in horror, never to be seen again.

Rowan noticed at once that the formerly disinterested guard was now quite aroused by the commotion, and he was now trotting on over to see what was happening with the captives. The creature would certainly not want the entire camp awakened early, as the blame would fall upon him for allowing one of their feasting-prey to disrupt any part of the camp's activities. When the boarman was nearly at the prison door, getting ready to peer inside, Rowan decided he could wait no longer, and sprinting suddenly around the corner into the town square he drove his gently glowing sword deep in the vitals of the surprised creature, felling it swiftly and fairly quietly. Unfortunately, some of the sleepers in the more nearby tents had already been aroused by the noise, and a few were now coming out to take a look at whatever was going on so early in the morning. Unable to drag away the slain boarman around the corner of the house in time, another pair of approaching guards running from the camp area, spied the lad and bellowed out their own high pitched squeals of alarm.

The rescuers had been discovered and they were all going to have some unwelcome company, here and soon!

"Ack! Now we're going to be in for it! Boyle! Get those last two captives out of there now, you have no time left to waste and neither silence nor stealth is going to be of any future help to us! Move fast and get them out NOW!" The Lore-Master sharply commanded, as he escorted the other four remaining survivors back through the woods to the safety of the boats.

"Tory! Don't just stand there, get back to the boats and make sure that everyone is ready to paddle for their lives the moment we get there!" The frantic gléaman barked. "Rowan can safely handle the first few Boar-Men that can come at us soon, and he has the sense to flee before their main force comes to take us! Get moving man!"

The despondent widower had a different sort of idea.

"No good Foole, they are waking and will come for us quickly now! Too quickly for the rescue party to make a clean escape, unseen back upriver to safety. We must create a diversion so that they do not come upon us while we are still upon or near the shore, so that they do not know our escape path. Rowan will need at least several minutes to keep the pursuit away from you as long as possible, and I will need to distract the horde to attract them to the west of the island, and not the east, where the canoes are. If I can keep them away from you until the boats are safely upriver, unseen, then the surviving townsfolk of Silana will be safe for yet a few more days until they can be safely escorted elsewhere. I need only a few minutes, and certainly I can find a small boat for my own escape as easily on the western riverbank!"

With his decision made, the first mate ran across the center of old town, yelling loudly and shouting out commands to nonexistent hidden soldiers for them to return to their boats in the west. Yelling and waving his sword about, he made sure that he was seen by as many approaching boarman warriors as possible, to lead them away from the boats, and in fact this near suicidal plan worked nearly to perfection. The majority of the nearest approaching creatures, a full squad at least, all ran after the mate, leaving Rowan, who was mostly hidden behind the ruminants of a nearby house wall, with only a pair of rather confused and soon badly frightened creatures that had never faced an angry Champion wielding a burning sword before. Ducking under their haphazard blows, Rowan cut them both into two pieces each, right across their intestines with a single sharp searing blow.

These foes dispatched in relative secrecy, he was missed by the next group of a dozen or so Boar-men who also followed their mates to the western part of the island, where Tory's loud voice could still be heard calling out commands to invented non-existent soldiers.

Boyle had made his own rather loud but effective retreat timed with the loud cries of the first mate, as he kicked down the back door of the prison house and dragged along in his arms the last two rescued townsmen as fast as they could manage to stumble. Rowan thought now, a few minutes later, that his friend was out of harm's way and that all but the last boat was safely now away from the island, and he decided that it was time that he made his own quiet and hasty getaway, until he heard the loud clear cries of a woman, calling out for help.

"Help me please! I'm in this building, here ... over here ... not with the others!"

Indeed, now that Rowan was able to concentrate on her voice, she seemed to be calling from another mostly intact building on the south side of the center of the town. He thought about just boldly and quickly running over to her, but there were still too many Boar-men coming and going through the town square, so he had to quietly and stealthily creep behind any cover that he could find, until he finally could safely approach the well-secured back door of this new prison. Like the other house, the doors and windows were tightly nailed shut but Rowan was in no mood to wait around here any longer, and with his flaming sword he quickly chopped through the panels of the back door and then kicked his way inside the house in just a few seconds. As the Foole had suggested, speed, rather than stealth, was his only hope now!

His helpless maiden, awaiting his rescue was a naked tall and well figured young lady with long brilliant flaming red hair that nearly reached her pale but well-rounded bare ass. She was about his own age, he decided; young, very pretty and despite her terrifying ordeal, still rather spirited and vivacious. She had been rather securely tied and even gagged, but she had slowly work it free just enough to be shout out for help, when she heard Tory's fake commands to his troops, assuming that a military force had arrived to rescue her. As a magnificently statuesque red-head, the Boar-Men had considered her especial suitable for a final special sacrifice to their dark God, and she had been separated from the others right from the start. To say that she was disappointed that a military rescue force had not in fact arrived, was a bit of a disappointment to her.