Chương 416: 13.2

Evren flew overhead, towards the encampment that surrounded the Magarskan watchtower. The other fighters who would be joining him this night were already in position. The patrols and watches of this camp were the laxest of any of the positions held up and down the 'border' of the Vanaand with the rest of Magarska. He disliked night flying, the heavens felt like they were watching him, the stars peering down from the sky.

His allies had already approached as close as they dared under day, now as the soldiers settled and the night watch began he started his part of the plan and descended. His wind held him gently, his wings barely flapping, slowly falling down upon the encampment silently. The night watch was first, he spoke, his words carrying over the wind. A gentle whisper that yet held so much power." Soldiers of Magarska, I am Evren the Shepherd and I release you from your vows.

Be free of these monstrous men and be not troubled by the deeds of this night." The man on the left shuddered, looked to his partner then broke into a run for the darkness beyond the camp. The other man? Well, that was why Evren had slipped so close under the cover of night. In a flash of his wind's fury driving his neck and jaws, the other man was dead, Evren spat out the crushed head and held a whispering rhyme over his tongue and teeth, washing the taste of blood, bone and brain away.

It was better than he had hoped, both men could have been truly loyal to the monstrosity of Magarska. But even among the trained soldiers, officers and captains that he'd freed from their vows, Evren had seen free men turn away from him if given the chance. He made his way up behind the watch routes he had spotted from the air, as the rest of the Gutti slipped into the camps, taking up positions by the tents, silencing in death those that could not be taken quietly.

Between Evren's circuit of the patrols, freeing or slaying the watches, they were done in just under an hour. Then it was time, the Lord's tent where this encampment's commander was sleeping. There was noise, a scuffle, but the ambush was already there, the men of the Vanaand were already among the camp, several teams called together across the front for tonight's work. Leaving miles of border undefended, if only the enemy had known.

Enough to overwhelm a single camp in silence where they would falter against a full concentrated response from the armies that huddled on their borders. Just enough hands and trained blades to hold a smaller encampment for a few hours without bloodshed, but little more.

Evren waited as the officers, captains, commanders, and most important of all the army chaplains were brought before him, the camp's fires relit to a blazing glow so that all of the Magarskan soldiers, whether they were willing or otherwise could see what was to come. To begin the first and most important act. He spoke the words that he had first found held so much power, before it was by the rank laid upon him as a Prince of Magarska.

But even since he had renounced his title and all loyalty leashed to him Evren had found his word could command. When Evren spoke aloud, the wind carried it, and through the wind so did the gods themselves listen.

"Men of Magarska, I am Evren the Shepherd! You have been ordered to my home, and that of the people of the vanaand, to fight, bleed and die killing men no more deserving of it than yourselves. You have been shackled by vows to the heavens and the stars with bonds no less enslaving than iron chains." He looked at the faces, disturbed, fearful, addled by interrupted sleep, many angry, but more glancing at the collection of officers, captains, commander and chaplains tied up and laid out before him.

He turned his gaze down to the officers.

"It is no place for any man to have a leash around his neck, whether it is by sorcery, gods or the crafts of metal and rope. So I, Evren Shepherd of the Vannand, release you from your vows." He felt the wind go out of him, the words sapping his breath, leaving him heavy, dulled. But the word carried, it flew out over the men forced into kneeling. He looked over them, he saw the faces with relief, he smelled the ones who relished their freedom. Unsurprisingly the captains and officers did not share in that scent.

In those faces he saw only fear, no, he smelled terror. From the chaplains in particular was a wide eyed gaping. One of the men forced to kneel in the dirt laughed, startling the Vanaand boy who despite his furless skin and snubbed face was every bit a son to the Gutti man beside him holding a spear to another Magarskan's back The laughter was then joined by a shout." Fuck Magarska! Fuck the Army! to the pits in the earth and the dicks of the fiends with the Officers and the Captains!"

Evren only knew the words because of his lessons with Fizzbunches and he nodded to the nearby boy that was guarding him. The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Let that one go, he has no more love for Murad and his army than we do." The laughing once soldier startled at the words, but Evren spoke softly in what he presumed was his mother's tongue." You are free to go, we have no quarrel with you, take whatever provisions you can carry from this camp and go, return to your family." A wondrous look passed over the man's features before he nodded and hurried off, disappearing into the darkness between the tents.

Evren turned back to take in all the other slaves, seeing the realization come to those that had not fully realized what he had given them. His wind whispered softly in his lungs, building as he felt the rightness of what was happening.

"Anyone else that has no quarrel with the Vanaand is free to go, your leashes are cut, your necks can breathe free and the wind is yours to run-""You and your families will all be made to take a vow for the mines, to work til you rot where you belong! Among the traitors and thieves!" The words were spat over the shoulder by one of the officers, his face a terrified contortion of anger and bluster, his scent so thick in horror and fear Evren was amazed he wasn't pissing himself.

He sighed as the man took a breath, trembling with fury and the mad energy of a trapped animal. Evren's jaws snapped down hard on the second skull of the evening. Again he tasted the blood of a man on his tongue, but without the need to remain quiet he did not have to suffer it long. He blew searing wind over his teeth and tongue clean with white thunder.

The corpse below his chin falling apart in a splay, left and right shoulders flopping to either side, the chest, neck and head settling as pale ash where his judgement had passed. A few weak spurts of blood seeping up from the waist where his restrained fury had stopped. Evren raised his head up to fix the silent gaze of all gathered there that night. Let the feeling of the night's wind in his fur sooth his temper. He closed his eyes to think of his family, his mother and father, his brothers and sister.

When he had regained his calm, he opened his eyes to the sight of the Magarskans staring in a crowd mingling between horror and wonder. The Vanaanders were smiling for the most part, although a few of the fresher faces looked ill seeing the reality of their war with Magarska shown so plainly.

"I have no quarrel with you, and I will see no man try to chain you with words or threats either. No one that leaves their chains behind this night should fear new ones placed upon you. On this I will Promise." The wind drained from his lungs again, sapped his strength, he felt his feathers weakening and the lift that normally buffeted them fell away. Those words made him feel heavy. But he could hear, feel, smell the assurance of that truth settling into the men around him.

No one that lived through this night would betray their fellows to the Magarskan army. A tug on his lungs drew his attention to the officers, the chaplains and the captains before him, ah that would be a pity then? He turned his gaze out to the faces of the army and felt his wind pulling towards some of them as well. Curiously, the commander, the highest ranking of all the slave masters here did not draw on the air, did not intimate that if left to live he would betray the lives of those that abandoned the camp.

Evren lowered his head down to the man, who kneeled with a strength to his back, but more than that a subtle softening in his face, a tiredness to his brow.

"You, among all the officers here, you would not tell your former masters of those that flee this camp, only you among all of them would be willing to let them leave and live free of chains?" The man seemed as surprised as Evren, but in the brief moment of thought in his eyes a confidence settled and a hard nod.

"The duty of a commander is to his men." Evren drew back and took a deep breath and then sighed heavily, turning to the man who was leading the largest band that night.

"Secure this man for now." The commander had to be hauled to his feet by three of the night raid's stronger warriors. Then guided away into the darkness of the camp, Evren turned his attention back to the collection of officers, captains and the chaplains, feeling an ache in his heart that it had to come to this. But even the thought of turning away from them stung in his chest, the pull of his wind at the liar that would make him. So these men would be the first example?

He took a heavy breath, and then as quickly and painlessly as he could make it Evren forced the zephyr of destruction from his lips and over all the men that would betray their fellows for the sake of returning their own slave master's collars. Before they could even cry they were no more. Again there was silence. But Evren turned back to look at the men before him, feeling a soothing relief when the pull on his wind no longer singled out quite so many among them.

Perhaps he could save even more of them before the night was done. He called out again to the headman of the night's raid.

"Line up these men, I will judge their sincerity to leave Vanaand in peace and return to their lives before Magarska's collars were forced onto their necks." He swept the crowd of once-soldiers again, and felt a smile threatening to break over his muzzle, even fewer of them still harbored the threat of betraying their fellow man now. This was shaping up to be an excellent night for Evren and the war of the Vanaand.