The Ashen Brotherhood

Chapter 5: Brothers in Ash

Caelan woke up to the smell of burned flesh and the sound of rain.

His shoulder was a knot of agony wrapped in crude bandages. Every breath sent fresh waves of pain through his chest. But the fever had broken, leaving him weak and hollow but clear headed for the first time in days.

"You lived." Rhen crouched beside him, offering water. "Joss said there was a chance you would not."

"Where is he?"

"Hunting. We have been here for three days. He said you needed rest before we could move."

Three days. Caelan forced himself upright despite the protest of every muscle. "We cannot afford three days. How many days do we have left?"

"Eight days until the inauguration." Rhen's expression was grim. "Joss calculated the route. If we push hard, we can reach Aldric's province in seven."

"Then we leave now."

"You can barely sit up."

"I can walk." Caelan proved it by standing, though the cave spun around him. "I have to walk. Eight days is not enough time for weakness."

Joss returned as Caelan was gathering his weapons, a brace of rabbits slung over his shoulder. The giant stopped in the cave entrance, water streaming from his massive frame.

"You are awake. Good." He dropped the rabbits by the small fire. "We need to talk about what comes next."

"We reach Aldric and we kill him. What else is there?"

"The approach." Joss began skinning the rabbits with practiced efficiency. "His fortress has walls thirty feet high, fodder patrols every hour, and trained soldiers are loyal to the Dragon Legion. We cannot simply walk through the front gate."

"There will be tunnels," Caelan said. "Aldric always builds escape routes. He taught me that paranoid commanders survive longer."

"And he knows you know that. He will have them guarded." Joss skewered the meat over the fire. "We need better intelligence. Numbers. Patrol schedules. Weaknesses."

"I know someone who might have that information," Rhen said slowly. "Another deserter. He was a quartermaster before he fled. If he is still alive, he would know Legion supply routes, garrison numbers, everything."

Caelan studied the young man. "Where?"

"Three days northwest. A small village called Thornhaven. That is where deserters gather when they have nowhere else to go." Rhen hesitated. "But it is risky. The Legion raids deserter settles regularly. We might walk into a trap."

"Or we might get the information we need to succeed." Caelan made the calculation instantly. "We go."

"That adds six days to our journey," Joss pointed out. "Three there, three back. We would have two days left to infiltrate the fortress."

"Then we move faster." Caelan accepted the cooked meat Joss offered, forcing himself to eat despite having no appetite. His body needed strength, even if he felt like ash inside. "We do this right, or we do not do it at all."

They traveled hard through the Blackwood, covering ground that should have taken days in mere hours. Caelan pushed himself past exhaustion, past pain, running on nothing but will and the image of Aldric's face burned into his mind.

But something had changed in the dynamic between the three of them. They moved like a unit now, anticipating each other's movements.

When Caelan stumbled, Rhen was there to steady him without being asked. When they needed food, Joss hunted without discussion. When danger approached, they positioned themselves in a defensive formation that felt natural and instinctive.

On the second night, as they camped in a hollow tree, Rhen voiced what they had all been thinking.

"We work well together."

"We survive well together," Joss corrected, but there was no disagreement in his tone.

Caelan stared at the small fire, watching flames consume dry wood. "I have spent my entire life working alone. Even as the King's Guard, I was alone. The Shadow operates in isolation."

"And how did that work out?" Rhen asked, not unkindly.

"I failed everyone I was supposed to protect." The words came out flat and factual. "My isolation meant I was too far away when it mattered."

"You were sent away deliberately by someone you trusted. It is not the same as choosing isolation." Rhen leaned forward. "What would have happened if you had been at Valdris that night?"

"I could have fought. Protected the king."

"You would have died with everyone else," Joss said bluntly. "One man, even the King's Shadow, cannot stop an army. You would be dead, and Aldric would still be getting his province."

The logic was sound, but it did not ease the guilt.

"I should have questioned him," Caelan said. "I should have suspected something when he sent me after the merchant. But I trusted him blindly."

"Because he raised you to trust him blindly. He spent twenty-six years molding you into the perfect tool—loyal, skilled, and unquestioning." Rhen's voice carried an edge. "I know what that feels like. The Legion does the same thing. They take children and shape them into soldiers who never question orders. You and I are not so different."

Caelan looked at the young deserter with new understanding. "You questioned. You deserted."

"And got sixteen men killed for it. Men who trusted me, who were my friends." Rhen's hands clenched. "Every night I wonder if I did the right thing. If trying to save strangers was worth the cost of my brothers' lives."

"You tried to save a kingdom. That is worth something."

"Is it? If I had stayed silent, my unit would still be alive. Valdris would have fallen regardless. I traded their lives for nothing."

"You traded their lives for the chance to stop the man responsible," Joss said. His voice was quiet but carried weight. "I spent four years alone in the Blackwood, surviving day by day, too afraid to act. Too broken to try. Then you two appeared, and I realized I had been waiting to die instead of living."

He looked at both of them. "We all carry guilt. We all made choices we regret. But we are here now, and we have a chance to make it mean something."

Silence fell over the camp. In the distance, a wolf howled, answered by others in its pack. Hunting together and surviving together.

"The Ashen Brotherhood," Rhen said suddenly. "That is what we are. Three men who rose from the ashes of destroyed kingdoms. We should make it official."

"Official how?" Caelan asked.

Rhen pulled out his knife, drawing the blade across his palm. Blood welled up dark in the firelight. "Blood oath. We watch each other's backs. We protect each other. We succeed together or fail together. No more fighting alone."

Joss took the knife next, cutting his own palm without hesitation. He pressed his bleeding hand to Rhen's. "Brothers by choice, not blood. I swear it."

They both looked at Caelan.

He had spent a lifetime trusting the wrong person. He had been betrayed by the only father figure he had ever known. Every instinct screamed not to trust again, not to let anyone close enough to hurt him.

But these men had saved his life. Had crossed the Scar with him. Had pushed through impossible odds because they believed in the same cause.

Caelan took the knife and cut his palm. The pain was sharp and clean. He gripped Rhen's hand, then Joss's, their blood mingling.

"Brothers," he said. "The Ashen Brotherhood. From this moment until Aldric Vane is dead. And whatever comes after."

The oath settled over them like a weight and a gift. They were no longer three survivors traveling together out of necessity. They were something more. Something forged in fire and loss and the stubborn refusal to let darkness win.

They reached Thornhaven on the afternoon of the fifth day.

The village was smaller than Caelan expected—maybe thirty buildings clustered in a clearing, surrounded by crude palisade walls.

Deserters moved between the structures, all of them bearing the haunted look of soldiers who had left everything behind.

"Stay alert," Joss murmured. "Many deserters in one place makes it an attractive target."

They had barely entered the village when a man emerged from the largest building. In his mid forties, soft around the middle, with nervous eyes that darted constantly. He wore civilian clothes, but the way he carried himself marked him as a former military.

"Rhen Thorne." The man's voice shook slightly. "They said you were dead. Executed for desertion."

"I survived. Brother Tomas." Rhen clasped the man's arm. "These are my companions. We need information about the northern provinces."

Tomas glanced at Caelan and went pale. "You are the Shadow. The King's Shadow of Valdris."

"I was." Caelan kept his hand near his blade. "Now I am just a man hunting a traitor."

"Aldric Vane." Tomas wiped sweat from his forehead despite the cold. "I was quartermaster when he negotiated with the Legion. I saw the supply manifests for his new province. That is why I deserted, I could not be part of it anymore."

"Then you know his fortress layout?" Joss asked.

"I know everything. Guard rotations, supply schedules and weak points in the wall." Tomas looked around nervously.

"But we should not discuss this in the open. Come inside. I will tell you everything."

They followed him into the building. Inside were maps covering every wall. Legion territories, supply routes and garrison positions. It was a deserter's intelligence network and it was carefully maintained.

Tomas spread a detailed map across the table. "Vane's fortress is here, in the northern valley. He has two hundred soldiers, rotating patrols every—"

A bell rang outside. Sharp, urgent.

Tomas's face went white. "No. Not now."

"What is that?" Rhen demanded.

"Legion raid alarm. They have found us." Tomas grabbed a pack already prepared for flight. "We have minutes before they breach the walls."

Caelan moved to the window. Through the crude glass, he saw them—Legion soldiers pouring from the tree line, at least a hundred strong. Professional. Organized. And leading them, unmistakable even at a distance, was a tall figure with gray hair.

Aldric Vane.

"He is here." Caelan's voice came out hollow. "He is supposed to be at his fortress. Why is he here?"

Joss joined him at the window, and his expression turned grim. "Because he knew we were coming. This is not a raid. This is a trap."

The building's door exploded inward. Legion soldiers flooded inside, weapons drawn.

And standing behind them, smiling, was Aldric Vane.

"Hello, Caelan," his former mentor said. "Did you truly think I would not be prepared for you?”