Wanted: The Border Wars: Book 1

By Matthew Hall

Orphaned in the first battles of The Border Wars, Adrian Rizzo "Rizz" and his companions must make their way south amidst a web of Bermanian spies and slavers. When little brother Gian's asthma medicine runs dangerously low, they are unwittingly forced into the path of Bermania's next conquest, Fenric Castle. In a series of mishaps that end with

• Language: English
• Publisher: World of Anduan
• Release date: Feb 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9798218375126

Matthew Hall

Matthew Hall is a screenwriter and producer and former criminal barrister, a profession he left due to a constitutional inability to prosecute. Educated at Hereford Cathedral School and Worcester College, Oxford, he lives in the Wye Valley in Monmouthshire with his wife, journalist Patricia Carswell, and two sons. Aside from writing, his main passion is the preservation and planting of woodland. In his spare moments, he is mostly to be found amongst trees. His books in the Coroner Jenny Cooper series include The Coroner, The Disappeared, The Redeemed, The Flight, The Chosen Dead, The Burning and A Life to Kill.

Book preview

Prologue

Even unhorsed, the young knight was a handful for the bandits. His comrades lay dead or dying, but the young knight stood, bravely brandishing his longsword. Four men lay at his feet already, and he appeared ready for more.

A man darted forward on his left, thrusting with a spear. The knight arched the longsword around his body, deflecting the spear, then whipped it a hundred eighty degrees to the right to catch a running man across the throat.

Five now lay at his feet.

Come on then. Let’s get on with it, the youthful voice commanded without an ounce of fear. Mortamer couldn’t help a spark of admiration for the young man.

We’re running out of time, Clem said.

Another man fell to the knight’s longsword.

And men, Mortamer said.

Clem spotted a man near the river, waving his hands in a prearranged signal. He turned to Mortamer. Jordan spotted the merchant ships.

Mortamer turned to a tall, thin man with a stringy black mustache. Hide some men by the docks.

Vani, the bandit leader, had sent Mortamer and Clem to strike the merchant ships as they disembarked. The ships carried goods that would be valuable to their growing encampment.

That, at least, was the story Vani gave the men. What he told Mortamer and Clem was different. An informant inside the Fenric Castle provided information about a contingent of soldiers being sent to protect the merchant ships.

A young knight, Roberto Albano, Lord Alejandro Albano’s son, was to lead the group of ten soldiers. Vani wanted him alive. Of course, that was proving to be more difficult than they imagined. The young knight was putting up quite a fight.

A man leveled a crossbow at the knight’s exposed back. Hold your shot. Vani wants him alive, Mortamer said, his voice cracking with command.

As he gave the command, two of his more experienced men stepped forward. Clem and Garlen rushed the boy in alternating patterns, Clem coming in on his right and Garlen on the left.

Garlen fell to a flurry of blows, and the young knight put Clem on the defensive, forcing Mortamer to join the fray or risk losing his closest friend.

Clem attacked with a broad-bladed axe, hacking at the knight with sweeping attacks that kept his feet moving.

Mortamer took a more direct route, rushing in with a spiked mace. It was a nasty-looking affair meant for crushing armor, and Mortamer knew how best to use it. Twice he connected with the knight’s left shoulder.

The first blow deflected off the knight’s armor. The second, however, punctured metal and drew a grunt of surprise from the young knight, who swung a vicious backhanded cut.

Had Mortamer not ducked, the sword would have cut his head from his shoulders. Still, the move caught Mortamer off guard and he fell flat on his back, exposed to a killing strike. Before the knight could finish him, Clem’s arching axe forced him off balance.

Mortamer jumped to his feet as the knight spun to face Clem. Mortamer leapt forward, meaning to plant the mace between the young man’s shoulder blades. That would be enough to incapacitate him. He swung with all his might. But to his dismay, the young knight dropped to one knee, jabbing the sword up and back at the last second.

Mortamer, no stranger to the unexpected turns of battle, twisted to the left. He took a painful stab wound in his upper arm, but there was no stopping the momentum of the short, heavy headed mace.

The spiked ball slammed into the back of the helm, driving it inwards with a sickening crunch. The sword fell from the knight’s limp hand, clattering on the hard ground.

The mace remained stuck in the helm, its spikes driven through metal and bone. The young knight teetered on his knees and fell face down with a crash of armor.

Mortamer let go of the mace to clutch his wounded arm. Olran’s shiny arse!

Yeah, Clem said. He shouldn’t have ducked. He’d still be alive if he hadn’t.

Mortamer frowned and inspected the vicious wound on his arm.

Clem attempted to remove the mace from the young knights’ helm, but it was wedged tight. I guess it will have to stay there.

Both men eyed the prone knight, oblivious to the approaching ships.

Guess there’s no point in taking him back, Mortamer said. Vani wanted him alive.

What will we tell him? Clem asked, kneeling to pull an interesting looking pendant from around the knight’s neck.

The truth.

1

The morning was bright and cold, just like the previous three mornings. A fresh layer of dew glistened from stems and early spring leaves. A thin mist of fog settled at the forest floor, concentrating itself in the valley below. It clung to the skin, sucking away warmth the way a leech sucks blood.

Adrian shivered against the dampness, his skin prickling with goosebumps. He was small for fifteen, as was his companion crouched next to him. But where Luca’s hair was a dirty mop of blond curls, Adrian’s was shiny black, and tightly cropped to his head. His eyes were bright blue, youthful, and full of concern as he knelt behind the security of the stump.

For three days, they came to this location and waited anxiously through morning and evening. They watched the valley, each day expecting the trackers, the men who would come to steal them away.

What will they do if they catch us? Adrian asked.

Make us slaves, I would imagine, Luca said, standing and looking over the valley below.

Adrian let his blue eyes slide shut as a chill crept up his spine. He had never experienced battle in his life. His father had been a hardened military advisor and captain of Melssina’s northern gate, and for that, he supposed battle would come naturally to him. After all, his father had been teaching him to use a sword and shield from the time he was old enough to hold a weapon. It wasn’t the sword and shield that haunted him, though. It was the faces.

Adrian gritted his teeth against the flashes of images. A contingent of Bermanian slavers had struck the caravan his father placed them on. Men, women, and children ran in every direction while the Bermanians rounded them up.

Adrian fought, fought for the right of his freedom, fought for the right of his little brother and big sister’s freedom, fought as fiercely as Melvin Rizzo had taught him. It was right, and yet, the image of the dying man still haunted him, hunched on his knees, blood gurgling from a slash in his neck, and fear growing like a cancer from his wide gray eyes. It had been his life, and Adrian had taken it forever.

Luca had killed too, not with a sword, but with a longbow.

Adrian snapped his eyes open, willing away the image of the dying man, his mind whirling over the consequences. The Bermanians saw them kill, saw their comrades slain by blade and arrow. Adrian heard their angry cries and saw their desperate attempts to exact revenge for their comrade’s demise.

A small group of men stood off the angry Bermanians long enough for Adrian to escape with Luca, Maria, and Gian. It was a valiant effort, and despite Adrian’s guilt, he knew it was their sacrifice that saved him and his companions.

They might make slaves of Maria and Gian. But not us, Adrian said, the statement sounding bolder than he intended.

Luca arched a curious eyebrow. You intend to fight to the death.

Adrian swallowed the hard lump in his throat. I mean they will kill us for what we did.

Luca shrugged.

The motion angered Adrian. How can you be so indifferent?

If they find us—and I don’t intend to be found—it’s unlikely it will be by the same group of men. So stop worrying about it, Luca said.

I hate the thought that Maria and Gian might be damned for my actions, Adrian said, toeing away a cluster of leaves. The earthy scent of decay wafted up from the black humus beneath.

Even if they kill us. They won’t kill Maria or Gian, Luca said.

At least not right away, Adrian thought, considering the ugly truth. Maria was a young woman, and a valuable trade item for slavers. Gian, however, just eight years old and ailing from asthma, may not fare well. While he might be a prime candidate for slavery if he were not ill, his condition would make him an expensive slave to maintain.

Adrian glanced unconsciously to the top of the ridge and the dense pine forest casting its protective shadow over them. Two valleys over was a cave, hidden high on a rocky ridge. And in that cave, Maria and Gian rested, safe and comfortable.

Adrian meant to keep them that way. No matter what the cost.

I see them, Luca whispered.

The declaration came as a sudden stab to Adrian’s ribs, causing his heart to do flips and pound fearfully in his chest. How many?

Seven. But I think there are more. The last one keeps looking behind and waving.

Adrian peaked over the stump. They were high on a craggy ridge overlooking a broad flat valley, blanketed in a wispy layer of fog. Gigantic oaks, hickories, walnuts, and ash trees rose through the mist, massive columns of wood and bark that supported a ceiling of budding spring leaves. A rocky stream snaked its way through the valley.

They walked single file along a game trail paralleling the rocky stream. The same game trail Adrian and Luca followed with Adrian’s sister and brother just a few days before. Sunlight filtered through the sparse upper canopy, glinting off helm and spear. Long swords swayed from belt scabbards of the first five, and small round shields were slung casually over their shoulders. The last two carried longbows and kept their eyes averted to the depths of the forest. The others watched the ground.

Adrian watched and hoped that the men would miss their tracks.

They will find us soon enough, Luca said, peeking over the stump once more. They’ve moved on, and another group is coming up behind. I count eight. Mostly archers. Two have crossbows.

How much farther before they hit the spot where we came off the trail? Adrian asked.

Half a mile maybe.

And another mile of unfamiliar terrain before they reach the cave, Adrian said.

Luca nodded solemnly. It’ll be hard for them to follow us through the pines.

We need to go, Adrian said. He rose to a low crouch, careful not to silhouette himself. He headed east.

Luca followed. It won’t be easy to convince Maria to leave, he said. I think she likes the cave.

I like the cave, Adrian said, sharing a concerned look with Luca. After so many days of uncertainty, none of them wanted to leave the safe and cozy cave. Yet, the cave itself could well become a trap if the Bermanians found them.

When Gian, Adrian’s little brother, developed an asthma flare, Maria was the first to call for a stop. The cave was convenient.

How long before we reach Caltania? Adrian asked.

When the boys left Melssina, Adrian’s father charged them with taking Gian to their uncle in Caltania. Uncle Gazo, a priest at the cathedral, was deeply involved with medicines. Just weeks ago, a letter arrived from him detailing new treatments for asthma, and Adrian’s father was determined to get his youngest son to Caltania.

The siege on Melssina where they lived, a remote town plopped on the border between Bermania and Cromania, put an abrupt halt to those plans. At one time, the city had been a Bermanian city, lost several generations ago in the Cault Wars. Now it seemed likely to become a Bermanian city once again.

I haven’t been that far south myself, Luca said. Father always thought it best to avoid the larger towns and their politics. But if I had to guess, I’d say at least two weeks.

Adrian rolled the information around in his mind while they trekked beneath the tall pines. Having run for their lives during the attack, they had scarce supplies. It was a wonder they made it this far without being caught. The idea of making a two-week journey south to Cromania’s capital city of Caltania was daunting.

We’ll need supplies, Luca said, echoing Adrian’s thoughts.

They had a few coins between them, enough for basic supplies, but nothing too extravagant.

There was one other problem that gnawed at Adrian’s conscience. First, we have to convince Maria it’s time to go, Adrian said.

That won’t be easy, Luca said, stepping over a moss-covered log.

The cave was tucked into a crevice high on a rocky ridge, a narrow hidden ledge leading to its entrance. It faced east so that the sun warmed and dried it quickly each morning, and despite the general roughness, it was quite cozy. A snug improvement over sleeping in the open. It even had a natural flue that permitted a small and welcome fire.

Adrian preferred the idea of staying longer in the cave himself. Gian was improving, but not ready to travel. When they left early this morning to watch the valley, Adrian could hear his younger brother wheezing in his sleep. The sound of it set a fearful chill running along his spine.

Can they find us? Adrian asked. He hoped the answer would be no.

Yes. Eventually they will, Luca said, leading the way along a narrow game trail through the pines. Eventually, they will find a track, or some other shred of evidence. They may even see or smell the smoke from our small fire.

Luca paused and picked up a half dozen dried pinecones, stuffing them into his pocket. We might need them to get a fire started later.

Maybe we shouldn’t light a fire anymore, Adrian said, watching Luca pick through the cones for the driest ones.

Luca shrugged, as if it hardly mattered. If it’s not the fire, it will be a track, a broken limb, or maybe even our scent if they bring a dog.

Adrian shuttered at that last thought. Dogs would add a whole new level of difficulty to their escape.

Adrian pursed his lips and began stuffing a few pinecones into his pockets. He and Luca had grown up together. Luca’s father had served as a scout for Adrian’s father and had been a successful hunter and sometimes tracker. He went missing nearly a year ago, about the time the Bermanians started raiding into the country. Since then, Luca had stayed with them, which was alright by Luca who was sweet on Maria anyhow, a fact that aided the boy past the loss of his father.

Luca was the most practical. Where Adrian took the trial of human existence for granted, Luca had a firm grasp on survival.

It was the practical things, like picking up pinecones for later use, planning for a meal, or spotting lookout points along the route that Adrian most appreciated. Luca always seemed to think ahead. It was Luca who spied the large stump on their way up the valley and pointed it out, stating it would make a good lookout location. And it was Luca who paused in the pines to gather pine boughs to spread out in the cave for comfortable sleeping pallets.

Adrian couldn’t help but appreciate his friend’s skill. And yet, he felt a twinge of anger over it. Maria began looking to Luca for guidance. He knew his sister was right, yet it needled deep into his pride to know his sister wasn’t looking to him for guidance. After all, getting Gian safely to Caltania was his responsibility, assigned to him by his father.

Half an hour later, their pockets jammed with pinecones, they climbed the narrow ledge to the cave. Maria was sitting beside the pine bough bed where Gian rested.

What is it? she asked, seeing the strained looks on the boy’s faces.

Bermanians, Adrian said, spilling the pinecones into a pile next to the natural hearth.

Maria’s face paled. How many?

Fifteen that we saw. Could be more, Adrian said.

How far away? Are they coming here?

They are two valleys over, following the game trail we followed.

Maria relaxed. Good, they’ll stay on the game trail and pass us by.

Adrian frowned and shared a knowing look with Luca. The Bermanians may well pass them by. They may go down the valley. But, eventually, they will turn back, maybe even coming up the next valley closest to them. And then they will find the cave.

Maria, who had been in charge of the family’s home ever since their mother died of illness, was accustomed to being knowledgeable. She saw the look pass between the boys and stood abruptly, hands on hips. What are you not telling me?

That they will find us, eventually. We can’t hide here forever, Adrian said.

But won’t they tire of searching for us? We can stay in the cave. We don’t even have to go outside, Maria said.

It was a lie, of course. Eventually, they would have to go out to gather supplies. The little fires always needed firewood. And there was the daily task of finding food, a task that mostly fell on Luca.

It won’t matter, Luca said. Eventually they will bring dogs in, or they will see the smoke from our fire. They may even smell it. But eventually they will find us. Our only choice is to stay ahead of them.

Maria tossed her head angrily and looked at Gian on the pallet of pine boughs. He puffed on the little pipe that contained his medicine, a concoction of thornwood that smoked its way into his lungs.

He took another draw on the pipe, coughed, and raised himself to one elbow. He was the spitting image of his older brother, Adrian. His black hair was thick and coarse, curling as it came down around his ears, and his eyes were so blue they shone like beacons in the darkness. But where Adrian’s narrow frame was solid and muscular, Gian’s was scrawny, a consequence of his illness, or perhaps the medicines used to treat it.

I can travel, he said, trying to sound positive. He coughed and a wheezing fit took him.

Maria frowned and guided him gently onto the pallet. Just rest. We aren’t going anywhere, she said, setting her jaw and giving the two boys a look that brooked no argument.

2

Adrian sat