Lords of Freedom 2 - Chapter 5

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Introduction

Lords of Freedom is an exciting trilogy that includes adventure, realistic action, surprising insights, and a touch of romance.

The serialization of Lords of Freedom book one is complete, with all 33 chapters published in the Gene Van Shaar Substack. Here is the link to all the chapters: Lords 1

The serialization of Lords of Freedom 2 (book 2 of the trilogy) is in progress. Lords of Freedom 2 includes many intriguing parallels with Joan of Arc, George Washington, Francis Marion (The Swamp Fox), Henry Knox, and the American Revolutionary War.

Lords of Freedom 2 - Chapter 5 - An Unexpected Friend

The Vlad ambush team ushered Jayn through the gully and onto a wide trail, keeping Elihu boxed in tightly with their steeds. A bird soared overhead, and Jayn shaded her eyes as she watched, imagining the freedom of soaring through the air on a breeze.

Straightaway, the lead soldier pointed at the bird with a shout: “There’s Calla.”

The others looked as well, nodding confirmation. After a few minutes, a piercing whistle sounded in the distance, and, as though on cue, the bird banked in its flight and descended from view. The leader of the troop veered onto a side trail, following the bird it seemed.

The man riding next to Jayn reached to snatch Elihu’s reins from her, as they’d have to ride single file now. Elihu snorted in surprise, tossing his head and dancing a bit on his hooves. The man tugged the reins smartly to check him.

“Steady Elihu,” Jayn said, stroking his neck and glaring at the man as he moved in front of them.

Moments later, the bird sailed back into view, circling the sky above once again, until another whistle drew it earthward. The pattern continued for a mile or so; then a man astride a huge black horse came into view at a bend in the trail ahead. The bird, a falcon, was sitting on his gloved arm.

“Calla, perch,” the man said.

At his command the falcon flapped to a tree branch overhead, watching those approaching through beady eyes, the same way the man watched.

“Well done,” he called, urging his mount forward.

He wore a Vlad uniform bearing high-ranking marks—a general, which didn’t bode well. Then he turned his head and Jayn saw the scar on his right cheek that even his beard couldn’t hide. General Vicor, the Vlad army’s highest ranking official, she realized with a chill, was here to oversee her capture.

“The troops are set?” the ambush leader called to him.

“Yes; Major Ordway is in command,” the general confirmed. “Another quick attack will take Farland by unpleasant surprise.”

Jayn bit her lip, weaving her fingers through Elihu’s mane. General Vicor was right about that; she had to get word to General Beauregard, but how?

The general moved in closer, sizing her up. Jayn met his gaze evenly, stilling her fingers in Elihu’s mane.

“Bind her hands,” he commanded, nodding at the man behind her. “Witches need their fingers free to cast evil spells.”

She almost rolled her eyes at such foolishness, but caught herself just in time. She didn’t want to provoke him. Already, she could tell he was inherently unpleasant, resembling a grizzly bear with his burly build, long bushy hair, and overgrown beard, not to mention his predatory gaze and raspy voice.

The other man was rough as he wrapped and knotted a thick cord around her wrists, leaving only a small measure of play to preserve circulation to her hands. For that, at least, she was grateful, as she lowered her hands onto the saddle horn.

All of this was but a power play, Jayn knew, but it was sure to make riding awkward. The general could tell she wasn’t nearly as frightened as she should be, but there was no way for her to escape so many men. Still, in his view, something had to be done to establish dominance.

She looked past him, over at Calla, still perched on the tree branch. Her feathers were predominantly bluish-gray with cream and white-speckled accents on her neck and chest. Her cruel curved beak was a brilliant yellow, with the same bright color circling her eyes.

All at once, she launched from the branch and soared into the air, revealing white feathers tipped in black on the underside of her wings and tail. Such a magnificent creature she was, Jayn thought, relishing again the freedom symbolized in the falcon’s flight. She’d lost yet another measure of her own just now, when they bound her hands.

They set off again, with General Vicor leading the way to the foot of a towering mountain and the zigzag pathway leading up the mountain. Without a doubt, they were headed for the kingdom Vlad and by taking this route, they’d cut their travel time in half, at least.

Jayn hadn’t known there was such a trail up the mountain range and noted it in her mind, having every confidence she’d one day relay the information to General Beauregard, despite her current predicament.

Perhaps the Farland army could return the unpleasant surprise in a sneak attack on Vlad. Thus far, the war had been waged on Farland soil, but taking the fight to Vlad’s front porch might turn the tide.

*****

By late afternoon, they reached a plateau just shy of the mountain peak. General Vicor stopped the procession and ordered camp to be set up for the night. It was an ideal spot, with fire pits already dug, as well as lashed latrines. Obviously, this was a spot frequently used by the Vlad troops.

Fine, Jayn thought with a little smirk. Farland’s army can employ it as well.

One of the soldiers approached and helped her dismount, then handed Elihu off to one of his comrades, to be tended to with the other horses. Watching, she realized that a number of the horses were those of her fallen guards and felt a pang at their and Johann’s valiant deaths.

Then it hit her—hard: she was on her own and unarmed, captive in enemy territory, headed for certain doom at Prince Nigel’s hand. Gathering her courage, she followed the soldier’s lead to a fallen tree and sat down at his bidding.

Her wrists were abraded and aching from the tightly wound cord, and she could barely feel her fingers despite the bit of play. Still, she hadn’t been harmed more than that, and offered up a silent prayer of gratitude, asking humbly for renewed courage and strength. As though on cue, the angel Mercedes entered their midst, unseen by all save Jayn.

She felt tears well in her eyes and smiled. Mercedes nodded back, but said not a word and did not approach. This wasn’t unusual, though she could have done with some friendly company. Then again, talking to thin air would not be well received in this crowd.

Once camp was set up, the soldier who’d helped her dismount loosed her bonds. General Vicor, standing nearby, opened his mouth to object but then closed it with a snap of his teeth, as though he’d lost his train of thought. All of this was Mercedes’ work and, looking over at the angel, Jayn nodded and raised her chin a notch.

“Thank you,” she said softly to the soldier, rubbing her wrists and shaking out her fingers.

“Come, walk a bit,” he said, pulling her to her feet.

He wasn’t tender by any means, but neither was he rough as the other soldier had been when he bound her hands. She nodded gratefully and nearly toppled over on her first step.

“After riding all day and sitting for so long, you’re bound to be stiff and there’s more riding ahead tomorrow,” the soldier remarked, steadying her.

She ventured a closer look at him once her step was sure; he still held her arm in a rather chivalrous way. He was but a few years her senior she guessed, with a lanky build and rolling stride. His dark hair brushed the collar of his uniform and was just a bit wavy. He was likely clean-shaven most of the time, but now bore a measure of stubble on his cheeks and chin, as shaving wasn’t a priority in the heat of battle. His eyes were brown and carried a brooding, haunted glint, typical of men who’d seen war close up. On one so young it was tragic.

A whinny cut the air and Jayn touched the soldier’s hand. “Could we walk by the horses? That was Elihu, my stallion.”

He dropped his hand from her arm quickly, squaring his shoulders. “I suppose; a walk is a walk…until you run.”

“I won’t; I promise—I doubt I could run right now, and how far could I possibly get?” she said, hoping to lighten the mood.

It worked, as he snorted a laugh. “Not far, unless you managed to mount up. Your white stallion is a beast, in a good way.”

“He is indeed,” she agreed with a snort of her own. “I doubt I could manage a reckless bareback mount and ride off this plateau, without reins, stiff and sore as I am. You were right, by the way.”

She was tempted though, all the same.

“You’re wise to realize that and not try,” he said.

When they reached the hobbled horses, she made her way to Elihu, scanning the horses of her fallen guards as she went. Johann’s chestnut stallion, Leif was not among them, which came as a relief. Perhaps her chief advisor had survived somehow. The horse wouldn’t have left his side unless captured—or was Leif standing faithfully over Johann’s dead body?

Having reached Elihu, she pressed in against his shoulder and buried her face in his mane to hide her tears. Johann was dead, in heaven with the angels now, committed to her and Farland’s cause to the bitter end.

Elihu blew out a warm breath, stirring her hair as he nuzzled her.

After a time, the young soldier led her back to camp, assessing his comrades and then setting her down on the fringes of the group, atop a large flattened rock. She might have been frightened then, with so many restless, leering men about, were it not for Mercedes and the young soldier standing by.

Sunset was nigh at hand and she shivered, despite her fur-lined cloak. Autumn was nearly spent and they were almost at the mountain peak; that, coupled with the setting sun had dropped the temperature considerably.

Mercedes approached her then, not saying a word, but moving behind her to place gentle hands on her shoulders. Upon her retreat, the cape radiated warmth and comfort where Mercedes had touched her.

When the angelic trumpet only she could hear sounded, in spite of everything, she felt her spirits lift. A flashback hit her: the morning of the last sleepover she and Eva shared—they’d all but outgrown the practice, at fourteen. They’d slept in the loft of Eva’s barn, and when the singing started at dawn that day Jayn had remarked on it…

“What singing—the birds chirping?” Eva asked.

Until that moment Jayn thought everyone heard heaven greet the day, not just her.

“The birds but join in,” she explained. “It’s the angels’ song I meant.”

“Angels? Do they sing at sunset as well?”

Eva was teasing, Jayn knew but answered solemnly, “At sunset, a trumpet sounds.”

The angel Mercedes joined them in the barn loft then and urged Jayn to tell Eva everything, which she had. To her surprise, Eva readily believed her, and she’d kept the secret through the years...

Jayn noticed Calla circling in the sky above and watched her stall a moment, then fold her wings in tight and plunge earthward. At the last second, she extended her wings and rocked back, lowering her talons to snatch a rabbit from the long grass. Then she soared skyward again, circling the plateau before landing on the ground near the soldier’s feet.

Warily he edged around to the other side of the rock, putting it between him and the massive bird. Jayn though, shifted toward the falcon. Up close, Calla was even more impressive, and in seconds, the twitching rabbit lay still. When the falcon began feasting, tearing the rabbit apart with zeal, Jayn looked over at the soldier.

“Calla is a brutal hunter and a hateful creature,” he said. “No one but Prince Nigel and General Vicor can get within arm’s reach of her without getting attacked. You might want to move.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, so long as I don’t try taking the rabbit from her.”

The soldier barked out a laugh. “You don’t find it objectionable—the cute, fluffy bunny being brutalized?”

She shrugged. “It’s the way of life. Calla is hungry, and cute, fluffy bunnies would overrun the forest, left unchecked.”

He laughed again, this time a near amiable chuckle. “True enough.”

Jayn looked out over the camp, smelling supper underway, and realized she was famished, not to mention thirsty. “Could I have a bit of water?”

With a grunt, he reached to unclip his canteen and extend it to her. She balked only a moment, then took it from him, uncapped it and drank. Replacing the cap, she handed it back and wiped her chin with the back of her hand.

“Thank you.”

He was watching her closely, brow raised. He hadn’t expected her to have drunk from his canteen. She shrugged, conveying her own surprise that he’d offer it to her. Then she waited, expecting him to accuse her of hexing what was left and dumping the remaining water out. He merely sighed and clipped the canteen back in place.

Calla hopped onto the rock, regarding Jayn through beady eyes. Her beak was crimson with rabbit blood and her chest feathers speckled with it. As well, she was still chomping on bits of entrails.

Jayn leaned in slightly. “Hello there, Calla.”

“You’re insane,” the soldier muttered.

Calla swallowed and cocked her head, first one way and then back the other, with a little chirrup.

“See?” Jayn glanced over her shoulder with a measure of triumph.

He growled something unintelligible.

A shrill whistle startled all three of them. Calla tumbled off the rock in fact, then flapped across the camp to General Vicor and landed on his gloved arm. Glaring at them, he stroked the falcon’s head with his finger before turning away.

*****

The angel on the plateau swayed the men through the evening meal, to keep to themselves, each time untoward ideas arose in their heads. The young soldier brought Jayn food and fresh water and even sat with her as they ate atop the rock, howbeit in silence.

Calla flapped back over to resume her feast as the sun dipped lower, nearly out of sight. When she finished, she hopped once again onto the rock, this time moving right up to Jayn. The soldier seated beside her stood and took hold of her arm. She shook him off though.

“You’re back, Calla; such a good girl,” Jayn said softly, reaching to stroke the falcon’s head as the general had.

Calla bobbed her head with a chirrup.

“Witch!” General Vicor bellowed, striding toward the rock.

Calla screeched and launched herself airborne, vanishing into the darkened sky.

The soldier clamored to his feet and snapped to attention.

Jayn sat frozen in place, her finger still extended, hand dangling in the air.

When the fuming general reached her, he kicked his boot through the dirt, sending a cascade into her face and across her half-finished meal. Dropping her arm, she blinked her eyes clear and scooted back on the rock, away from him.

“The falcon is off limits—to you and your black magic,” he spat, leaving spittle in his beard.

“Calla landed here and mounted the rock on her own…both times,” Jayn said evenly.

“Don’t you dare speak her name,” he roared, leaning close, within inches of her face.

Jayn stiffened, wanting to clench her eyes tight, but forcing herself to hold his angry stare in unblinking silence.

General Vicor raised his hand, about to slap her from the rock, but at the last second, a stupor of thought hit him and his expression went blank. Then he spun on his heel and stalked off, back to the campfire.

Jayn whooshed out a breath and sagged on the rock, dumping the remains of her sandy supper to the ground. General Vicor was one who truly believed she was a witch, which was both a curse and a blessing. Considering her such made her less than human and expendable; on the other hand, her evil power would give him pause.

Mercedes, standing by a little way off, gave her a reassuring nod.

“Are you all right?” the young soldier whispered.

“Not by a far sight,” she snapped.

He stared off into the darkness in silence for a time; then said softly, in wonder, “You touched Calla… she let you stroke her head.”

Jayn pursed her lips, but made no reply.

Later on, as things wound down, he provided a pillow and bedroll for her, though not a tent. Regardless, she was tired to the bone and slept soundly through the night.

As the sun rose over the mountain plateau the next morning, music filled the air, a heavenly choir greeting the day. Jayn stretched and sat up, noticing her Vlad captors doing the same. The young soldier was yet standing guard, staring hard at her through narrowed eyes.

Surely another had stood in at some point through the night, giving him a few hours rest, as he looked alert and on task. It made no difference, and she banished the random thought, tossing back the bedroll cover and reaching for her boots.

“You were floating all through the night, several inches off the ground,” he grumbled at her. “The relief guard didn’t notice, but I did.”

She froze a moment, her first boot halfway on. Because you watched me more closely, she thought, not sure how she felt about that.

Sliding her foot the rest of the way in, she craned her neck. There stood the angel Mercedes, leaning against a nearby tree. She met Jayn’s eye deliberately then distanced her gaze and shrugged her shoulders, as though to say, Don’t look at me.

Jayn choked back a laugh. Mercedes had quite the sense of humor; no wonder she’d slept so soundly.

Reaching for her other boot, she looked back at the young soldier, feigning innocence. “I was?”

He ground his teeth, but sounded genial enough when he said, “Come on, over to the fire; there’s coffee, hard bread, and cheese. Then we’ll push on to Vlad and then…”

Slipping the second boot on, she stood. “What?”

“We’ll hand you over to Prince Nigel,” he sighed, avoiding her gaze.

She said nothing, expecting as much.

As she walked with him toward the morning fire, she asked, “What’s your name?”

Surprised, he raised a brow. “Caden.”

Lowering her head, she smiled. He was handsome and able—a potential ally? From behind her, Mercedes whispered yes in her ear.

At the campfire, General Vicor was conspicuously absent. When Caden asked where he was, another soldier told him the general had taken breakfast in his tent and was composing a message that Calla would convey to Prince Nigel at the castle.

A short while later, the general emerged from his tent. Calla was perched on his arm with a small cylinder affixed to her leg. He strode directly to the lip of the ravine, raised his arm, and said loudly: “To Prince Nigel, at the castle, Calla.”

The falcon launched skyward from his arm with an answering “caw.” After a banking circle over the valley to get her bearings, she soared out of sight, headed due west.

Caden nudged Jayn as the general turned from the cliff. “Let’s finish eating over by the horses.”

She nodded and quickly stood. Once General Vicor reached the campfire, things were sure to get ugly, like last night, if she remained.

Elihu whinnied a greeting when they reached him, and, setting her plate on a nearby stump, she hurried over to stoke his nose. Her fallen guards’ horses were gathered near him as well, and she stroked each of them in turn. The Vlad horses were in their own huddle, and Caden’s mount, a piebald gelding, walked over to him.

“Ready to roll, Ash?” Caden said, patting his neck.

The horse tossed his head, seeming to nod, which made both of them chuckle.

“He’s a beautiful horse. The brown and white markings on his body almost look like a map,” Jayn said.

Caden nodded. “They do, don’t they? I never noticed until my Uncle Jaron pointed it out; now I can’t not see the map.”

She smiled, and they stood in silence awhile amidst the horses. Caden wasn’t all that different than the boys she’d grown up with, she realized. He had a home, friends, a family, and who knew what dreams for the future. All of this was easy to overlook in her current fix, and she had.

“Don’t let me forget we’re enemies,” she joked, walking back to the stump.

“Are you—forgetting?” he said with a hopeful note.

She merely shrugged, picking up her plate and sitting down. He joined her on a nearby log and they finished eating in silence. Once done, Caden went to work, saddling Elihu.

“Camp isn’t even broken down yet,” she remarked.

“I know, but if you’ve already mounted up, they won’t put you on a different horse, at least, I don’t think they will. A couple of the others cast lots last night, to see which of them would ride Elihu today. They were drunk though, but still…” He let his voice trail off with a shrug.

Jayn scowled. That might warrant her temper.

Once Elihu was ready, she stepped over, surprised when Caden took her arm. She needed no help mounting, but the gesture touched her and she allowed it. When he pulled a cord from his pack though, she frowned.

“Now you’re reminding me.”

He shook his head. “Give me your hands; someone is going to bind you; wouldn’t you rather it be me?”

She rolled her eyes but nodded and held her arms out. To her surprise, he cleverly wrapped the cord, making the knots look tight, but in reality, the cord was so loose she could have shaken it off.

They shared a smile.

© Copyright 2025 Gene Van Shaar