Guardians of the High Pass: Mountain Lords, #2

By Avery Christy

Hadrim Berger has recently been promoted to second-in-command of the Gold Lions Company. Their task is to build a fortress at the High Pass, a critical point along the Eastern Trade Road, and establish Imperial Law in the newly conquered southern region.

But not everyone welcomes the Gold Lions--or Imperial rule. As the Lions struggle against local leaders, a rebel king secretly positions a massive army to destroy them.

Will Hadrim and the Gold Lions defeat the rebel king and complete their mission? Or does a different fate await them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Avery Christy
• Release date: Nov 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223442431

Book preview

Guardians of the High Pass

By Avery Christy

Guardians of the High Pass

Copyright © 2023 by Avery Christy

First paperback edition November 2023

First eBook edition November 2023

Notice of Rights

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—withoutthe prior written permission of the author or publisher, except in thecase of brief quotations embodied incritical articles or reviews.

Book Design by Sunflower Creations

Maps by Joshua Hoskins – Noctua Cartography

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Cover art by BrokenCandleBookDesigns

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental or a product of the reader’s imagination.

Published by High Mountain Books™

For all those who search

The answer waits

Have the patience and strength to see it

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Table of Contents

Prologue: A Proposal

On the Road Again

Settling In

The Locals

Eyes and Ears

The Red Lady and the Slave Trader

Snow Falling among the Pines

The Trial

Building Foundations

A Spy

To Catch a Chicken Thief

Two-Faced Mule

Speak of Evil, and See Its Rise

Uprising in Trinity

Knock and It Shall Open

Serpientes

The Battle of Trinity

Taste of Ashes

Lonesome Trails

Ard Dailan

Wagons North

Into County Areth

County Areth

Welcome to Stay

The Blood Company

Lions on the Hunt

Ill News

The Lions Ride Forth

The Lion and The Stallion

There Shall Be Peace

A Lion Set Free

epilogue returning To Stay

Post EpiloguE no More Regrets

Previously in the Mountain Lords series

Next in the Mountain Lords series

Also by Avery Christy

Prologue:

A Proposal

T

hick smoke climbed from a silent village. Though primarily adobe, like the six-foot wall around the village, every building burned. A caravan of canvas-covered freight wagons bearing the livery of a silver cross on a blood-red field rolled contentedly away like a bloated snake along the well-used northbound road. The men of the convoy drove herds of fresh livestock before their wagons; though tired and sweaty from their recent labor, their morale was high and their conversation punctuated with laughter.

​The caravan lumbered through a red-earth landscape between stone-topped ridges and shallow canyons, too dry for much grass but held together by short scrubby pines of juniper and piñón. As the sun dropped to the snow-topped mountains in the distance, the caravan rolled down into grassy plains crisscrossed by forested ravines, settling in one with water and cottonwoods in full spring bloom.

​The wagons were circled next to the creek to coral the newly acquired livestock. There were fifty men, a small number for so much work, but they were familiar and efficient, and little time passed. As they finished setting camp, however, the peaceful evening was disturbed by an approaching thunder. For a moment, they were mystified by the sound. Then Ges Hannil, the caravan’s leader, retrieved his weapons and shouted for the others to take up arms. The men scrambled into action as a force of cavalry resolved from a pall of dust to the north.

​Spears! Ges Hannil hollered to the mercenaries of the Blood Company. Form in the treeline!

​The mercenaries, scrambling to don armor and take up spears and shields, joined Ges at the edge of the cottonwoods that lined the lip of the ravine.

​The cavalry rounded a sloping rise in the land, revealing increasing numbers as they swept toward the ravine. Ges cursed under his breath as he watched several score of cavalry become hundreds. The thunder of cavalry became a storm as they poured into sight like an oncoming flood, growing to a thousand or more. Then the head of the column split into two, one arm going east of the mercenary camp, and the other west. The two arms rode down into the ravine and up the other side to encircle the camp.

​The men of the company were pinned at the ravine’s lip, too far to scramble for the defense of the wagons, and even if they managed it, they were too few against so many.

​A terrible, cold dread seized Ges and his courage sank into his gut. For almost nine years he and the Blood Company had fought and pillaged in this foreign land; losses had been suffered over the years but never had the company tasted defeat. But now, in the second year of his leadership, on the road home with such great wealth, they were moments from their doom.

​The massive cavalry force moved with precision and the encirclement was soon complete. There was nothing Ges could do, nowhere to run. He looked to his fellow mercenaries, giving a grim, encouraging head nod to those gazes he met. He could see from the other men’s faces they knew this was their final moment, yet they held spears and shields in hand and stoically waited to take as many of the enemy to Hell with them.

​The cavalry settled into position. Hundreds and hundreds of mounted warriors waited on their steeds for a signal to begin their attack. Silence settled along with the cloud of dust. Then, ahead of Ges, the circle of riders split, allowing a small group to ride through and toward Ges’ position. He could tell their leader from his decorated, fanciful armor.

Looks like he wants to talk, one of the other men observed.

Well, if he wants to talk, then we’ll talk, Ges replied.

What do we do? another man asked, a slight quiver in his voice.

That’s a stupid question, Ges snapped. We talk, and we keep talking until we’re walking out of here!

The group of riders came to a halt just outside the range a strong man could accurately throw a spear, and the leader removed his helm. His hair and beard, though paling with gray, retained some of the red from his youth. His lined, broad face was weathered from a life in the elements. The man was likewise broad beneath his armor, his movements indicating he was physically fit and strong.

The man rested his hands and helm on his saddle horn and called out to the mercenaries, "I am Ian Bonam, King! I wish to speak with the leader of your company!"

Anticipating this, Ges had already detached himself from the treeline, the cottonwoods’ leaves gently rustling in a slight evening breeze, making a sound like raindrops. Ges advanced most of the distance, holding his tower shield easily at his side, using his long battlespear like a walking staff. He did not wear armor, for he had not had the time to don it.

"I am their leader, King Bonam," Ges replied. A fledgling flame of hope had returned to push against the cold dread in his gut. A man ready for murder was typically not talkative.

I am here to speak with you, King Bonam said in an easy-going tone. But first, what hospitality do you offer a king?

Ges smiled, The best wine this part of the world has to offer, Sire.

To the obvious relief of all, Ges returned to his men and ordered livestock butchered to feed King Bonam’s entire army. This would likely mean every head of sorry-looking cattle they had taken from the village earlier in the day, but Ges would far rather see the ground soaked in their blood than his own. Then he ordered tables and wine prepared for their royal guest. Rightly believing they had dodged death, the fifty men set to building fires and preparing beefs with fervor.

As the sun dipped below a peak, setting the clouds overhead to orange flame and giving the air a warm glow, a crude table with camp chairs was set in the most idyllic spot along the creek. Ges offered King Bonam the seat at one end, and he took the other. A younger man, a youthful copy of the king, sat to the king’s right, and a woman of similar age, bearing a resemblance to her father, likewise broad of build and red-haired, sat to the king’s left. Bonam’s army made camp up the ravine.

I have heard of your company’s … exploits, Bonam began. He took his seat casually as he set his helm on the table, still wearing his banded mail armor. His armor, helm and shield, as well as those of his army, were detailed with golden paint and horse themes. Ges had spotted a shield painted with a golden horse head hanging from the king’s saddle. They were well and diligently equipped, which told Ges that Bonam was a wealthy king. Each soldier in the Blood Company had identical armor and livery, all well-made and bearing the company’s silver cross on a blood field—Ges knew how expensive that was. And I have watched for your company’s passage.

Ges spread his hands, And here we are, at your disposal, King.

One of the Blood Company’s few servants unwrapped from cloth two decorated gold chalices, setting one before King Bonam and the other before Ges. He then filled them with wine.

Ges gestured to the servant to hand him the bottle, which he then displayed. This wine hails from a vineyard lauded to be one of the best in this land.

Bonam paid no attention to the wine but lifted the chalice to study it, his lips pursed thoughtfully. This … is from a church.

Ges was unable to tell if Bonam was insulted or not by the chalice.

You looted a church?

Still Ges was not sure which way Bonam would turn, so he tried to defuse the moment with humor, God did not show to say anything contrary when we took it.

Bonam’s face was difficult to read, but he did not respond as though finding Ges’ words humorous.

Consider it a gift, Sire. Restore it to God’s service in any church in your kingdom.

You gift me a chalice stained with the blood of murder and theft? You unknowingly curse me, Commander. Bonam set the chalice down at arm’s length away from him, its wine untouched. He took a deep breath as though to control his response, "But then, if you were a religious man, you would not be a mercenary, would you? But you are a loyal man of the Mountain Empire," Bonam continued.

I am a loyal man to whoever pays my bills, Ges replied with a bold smile. He felt relief at dodging this man’s anger two times in as many hours.

The Empress believes she owns all of this, said Bonam with what sounded like bitterness, gesturing vaguely to the landscape beyond the ravine. "So you do know the penalties when a nobleman decides to call himself king."

Bonam’s son, yet to be introduced, had silently studied Ges with a glare since taking his seat. Bonam’s daughter had been studying everything else but, with these words, turned to watch Ges.

He could feel the tension thick in the air as the three waited for his response. And he could tell he needed to answer carefully, "There are many nobles who act like a king or queen though they do not openly proclaim it."

Bonam nodded, and his children made no threatening moves. Claiming land on a map and bringing it to rein are two different creatures. The time is coming when the long reach of the Empire will come to this land, the reach of its laws and legions, Bonam explained in a tone like a teacher speaking to his student. "The Bison Legion is too busy tying up its southern campaign to bother with men like me. But word has reached me that other legions are being sent south to this land to begin making it useful … and obedient. So what am I to do to survive this coming darkness? I must act before they act."

Ges sat back in his chair as he began to see Bonam’s intention. So, you wish to hire the Blood Company to augment your force?

Bonam and his two children chuckled. Then Bonam gestured to the wagons, I already know this is the entirety of your company—what’s left of it. You have had a busy … eight, nine years? No, I have a different need.

Bonam’s daughter produced a leather drawstring purse from a small satchel on her sword belt and plunked it on the crude table. The bag clinked with the sound of coins.

Bonam continued, "Word has also reached me that a company of the Lion Legion will soon be stationed in the High Pass. Already a magister has been assigned to the dismal little village there; the local mayor and his people would rather share their bed with an angry rattlesnake, but they have no options in the matter than bend knee to the Empire and accept whatever the magister demands. That company of soldiers and knights will call the High Pass home, building a fortress there and from it controlling trade, maintaining the peace, and spreading the Empress’ will."

Ges hesitated before replying. His company had been traveling home because there was almost nothing left of it, as Bonam keenly observed. "My company cannot stand against a proper company of the legions …"

And you will not have to. Tomorrow, you and your company will travel with me to my kingdom where you shall be my guests through the spring and summer. The company of legion troops is not scheduled to arrive in the High Pass until the end of summer, or so my spy reports. It is then you shall travel north and play your part in helping me remove them.

Bonam slid the bag across the table. Without thinking, Ges accepted the bag and opened it enough to pull out a coin. It was a heavy gold coin stamped with the likeness of King Bonam. The inscription around the edge bore his name and the year it was minted—three years ago.

What say you, Commander? One last well-paying job before retirement?

Ges could hear in the near distance the great noise of Bonam’s army at camp. It did not seem as though he and his men had a choice—if Bonam was as smart as he seemed, he would not let the Blood Company turn down his traitorous offer and walk away. Ges smiled, I think, my noble king, the Blood Company has a bit of strength to it yet.

On the Road Again

T

he mid-morning sun shone brightly from a cloudless sky on a world undecided if it should begin changing for fall. The day was warm but not unpleasantly so, and the air held that unexplainable tingle, that slightest hint of fall’s coming. Captain Hadrim Berger’s grandmother would have called this time summer’s last kiss.

​Hadrim rode his war mount in the center of a long column of the Gold Lion Company. Both before and behind him marched a hundred fighting men, followed by a longer column of supply wagons, then the wagons bearing around a hundred engineers and craftsmen with the tools of their trades. Scattered up and down this army were a dozen knights like himself. Dust rose into the still air as the hundreds of men and animals and rumbling wagons made their journey south toward the High Pass.

​The Gold Lions, their banners held high of red and stone-gray quartering with a rearing gold lion, approached the mouth of High Pass Canyon. Its shallow sides were forested first with hardy scrub pines, then taller majestic species of pine, and the creek along its bottom was thickly lined with towering cottonwoods. What minimal flat space the canyon floor afforded was occupied by small family farms shaded with cottonwoods and fruit trees, their homes and buildings made of sandstone blocks. The Eastern Trade Road, which snaked up the canyon's length along the creek's left bank, climbed higher and higher into the rugged land. To the east, Trinity Mesa towered high into the sky. Its eastern stretches, which blocked north-south travel, were lost to Hadrim’s gaze. To the west, unseen beyond the first ridge, stretched the convoluted wilderness of the Labyrinth.

​The hundred infantry behind Hadrim were divided into five units of twenty. They proceeded loosely, maintaining their units with no rhythm or other marching discipline. The company rolled along slowly for the sake of the animals. They were climbing hundreds of feet—the draft animals were not only pulling the heavy wagons uphill, but they also faced increasingly difficult breathing from the altitude. The company had some spare draft animals but not enough for a full switchout of all the draft teams. The men, however, had been fed lightly fried beef liver in seasoned tallow in preparation for the long climb to the pass and could drink water from their canteens whenever needed.

Riding on a jenny alongside him was a bard—Hadrim only remembered his name as Jenth—who had latched himself to the Gold Lions when they were camped last night outside the town of Trinity. Jenth sang and played a catchy tune on his guitar, letting his mount steer the course. Hadrim had never heard the song, but he picked up the simple lyrics of eagerly being on the road, seeing new places, and of friendship. Whether the men knew the song or not, they caught on quickly and now happily raised their voices to sing along with the bard.

​Hadrim held mixed feelings about this campaign. He felt honored to not only be a part of this mission to build a great and mighty outpost of the Mountain Empire, but to have been promoted to second in command. And yet he admitted a bit of reluctance at leaving his posting near the city of Daver. Hadrim was no stranger to hard work, but for the past three years he had taken a liking to the allure of city life. Plus, he did not look forward to living rough through the first couple of winters in the mountains ahead, or however long it took to build this fortress.

The High Pass was in territory recently conquered by the Mountain Empire, on the edge of wilderness. It was lawless territory, and the locals loathed their new lords. There the Gold Lions would build a fortress to protect trade and bring peace to the area. Even with the fortress built, life promised to be hard.

​So the High Pass would be Hadrim’s home for the next four years—the time left to his first term of service as a knight in the Imperial Legions. Then he would decide whether to serve another seven-year term or leave and be on standby until the age of forty. What he would do, he had not the slightest inclination. And that troubled him like a dark storm on the horizon.

​Jenth struck the final chord and soldiers whistled, clapped and cheered. Degar Beran, a knight of the company and Hadrim’s best friend, rode up alongside. He was smiling broadly. Haddy! Eating pine needles again? Enjoy the free entertainment!

​Hadrim shook his head, but before he could speak, Degar continued, So did the dog steal your steak, or what?

​With a head nod to the landscape around them, Hadrim answered, This is it. This is our new home.

​Degar looked around reflectively before answering, "I’ve spent the last two years living in a barracks. You were there … what, a year more? And what have we had to do each burning day? He continued in a theatrically mocking voice, Oh! Let’s go to the training field and practice our cavalry charge against straw dummies! Sure! We did that yesterday—likely do that again tomorrow—but what fun!"

Hadrim chuckled as Degar continued, "This place isn’t half-bad. Sure, I think we’ve marched off the map, but we’ll actually have something to do other than swing wood swords at each other!"

​Does anything bring you down? Hadrim accused jovially.

​Degar leaned in his saddle toward Hadrim, as if to impart a secret. "When my service is done, I’ll go back to Daver and the family business of selling furniture. Furniture. He emphasized the word with dread. That’s my future, my friend. I cannot convey how happy I am that I won’t be spending the entirety of my service in the barracks a few miles away from that open grave, waiting for my return."

​Hadrim