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DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
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D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
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D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 11
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-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
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D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 5
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DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
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\\
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\
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========================================================================
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DargonZine Distributed: 06/27/1998
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Volume 11, Number 5 Circulation: 679
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========================================================================
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Contents
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Editorial Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
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A Spell of Rain 1 Stuart Whitby Janis 28, 1016
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A Daughter's Duty Mike Adams 6-10 Ober 1015
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Deliverance 1 John Doucette 24 Sy, 1014
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========================================================================
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DargonZine is the publication vehicle of the Dargon Project, a
|
||
collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet.
|
||
We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project.
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||
Please address all correspondance to <dargon@shore.net> or visit us
|
||
on the World Wide Web at http://www.shore.net/~dargon. Back issues
|
||
are available from ftp.shore.net in members/dargon/. Issues and
|
||
public discussions are posted to the Usenet newsgroup rec.mag.dargon.
|
||
|
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DargonZine 11-5, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright June, 1998 by
|
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the Dargon Project. Editor: Ornoth D.A. Liscomb <ornoth@shore.net>,
|
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Assistant Editor: Jon Evans <godling@mnsinc.com>. All rights reserved.
|
||
All rights are reassigned to the individual contributors. Stories
|
||
and artwork appearing herein may not be reproduced or redistributed
|
||
without the explicit permission of their creators, except in the case
|
||
of freely reproducing entire issues for further distribution.
|
||
Reproduction of issues or any portions thereof for profit is forbidden.
|
||
========================================================================
|
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|
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Editorial
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||
by Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
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<ornoth@shore.net>
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For many of our readers, their academic year winds down in May and
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||
June, but things are just getting started for us, because this is when
|
||
we usually hold the annual Dargon Writers' Summit. The Summit is
|
||
unquestionably the biggest event of the year for us, and this year ten
|
||
of our contributing writers made the pilgrimage to our annual writers'
|
||
gathering. This time the event was hosted by longtime DargonZine
|
||
contributor Carlo Samson, and took place in Chicago in mid-May.
|
||
Each year, in order to get the most benefit from our time together,
|
||
we very diligently schedule a healthy balance of formal working sessions
|
||
and fun, active outings and into each day. But because we usually have
|
||
no more than 60 hours together, we usually aren't so conscientious about
|
||
scheduling sleep time!
|
||
This year, we got more writers together than ever before, extending
|
||
the brotherhood and camaraderie of our core group to a larger group of
|
||
contributors. We devoted time to getting to know one another better, and
|
||
enjoyed hanging out together. Among the fun activities we enjoyed were
|
||
learning how to play a game called Icehouse, playing pool, eating at a
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||
Mongolian grill, visiting Chicago's Navy Pier, and playing laser tag, as
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||
well as Summit traditions like mini-golf and go-karting. Like I said,
|
||
there's little time for sleep!
|
||
And as if that wasn't tiring enough, we also spent about ten hours
|
||
in formal working sessions, discussing all kinds of topics. We covered a
|
||
lot of ground, made more rapid progress than could ever be made on our
|
||
writers' email discussion group, and came to many very important
|
||
conclusions that are going to make the Dargon Project better than it has
|
||
ever been. Specifically, we made a commitment to raising enough money
|
||
from the writers to offset the magazine's production costs, and affirmed
|
||
that we want to begin a judicious advertising campaign in order to grow
|
||
our readership. We set in place a formal mentoring program, charged with
|
||
finding ways to bring new writers into the fold as gently as possible.
|
||
We also came up with a great way for readers to easily provide feedback
|
||
on individual stories, and that is currently being developed for the Web
|
||
site. And we kicked around a whole lot of other ideas that while not as
|
||
far-reaching, will improve the project and the magazine significantly.
|
||
One of those smaller ideas that was suggested at the Summit was to
|
||
make our publishing schedule available on our Web site. Well, we never
|
||
had a publishing schedule until a couple years ago, because it was
|
||
difficult to predict when any given stories might be finalized. In
|
||
recent time, we've been able to predictably distribute issues every six
|
||
to eight weeks, and so we can now made our tentative distribution dates
|
||
available to you, along with whatever we know about what each issue will
|
||
contain. The Publishing Schedule can be found at
|
||
<http://www.shore.net/~dargon/pub_sched.shtml>. That's just one example
|
||
of some of the brainstorming that we do at the Summit, and how it
|
||
translates into better service to our readers.
|
||
So this year's Summit was another great experience for us. If you
|
||
are interested in reading more about the Summit or checking out some of
|
||
our pictures, visit our 1998 Dargon Summit Web page at
|
||
<http://www.shore.net/~dargon/summit98.shtml>.
|
||
|
||
In addition to last month's Dargon Summit, I'm pleased to announce
|
||
that this issue marks the debut of another new writer: Stuart Whitby.
|
||
Here Stuart prints the first installment in a three-part storyline
|
||
called "A Spell of Rain" that I'm sure you'll enjoy.
|
||
It's always a pleasure for us to be able to introduce new writers.
|
||
After all, our mission is to reach out to aspiring new writers and help
|
||
them improve their writing. However, last year we only had one new
|
||
writer print his first story, and that was a serious concern at the end
|
||
of 1997. This year, we focused on fixing that problem, and Stuart will
|
||
be our third new writer to see print so far this year. I hope to have
|
||
the privilege of introducing several more to you over the remainder of
|
||
the year!
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|
||
A Spell of Rain
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||
Part 1
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||
by Stuart Whitby
|
||
<StuWhitby@sol.co.uk>
|
||
Janis 28, 1016
|
||
|
||
The winds whipped around the tower, causing moans and whistles to
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||
sound through the rooms and down the stairwell. By the time they echoed
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||
their way to the room in the basement -- a room which was a foundation
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||
for the tower and study for an aspiring mage -- they had quieted to soft
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||
and eerie whispers of their former voice, as if not wanting to disturb
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||
the room's sole occupant. Jason paid them no heed as he sat hunched over
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||
a flawed piece of quartz, concentrating intently on the opaque surface.
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||
His mind was clear of all but the stone, which he spun slowly in his
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||
hands. He had to get *inside* the rock, had to find the very essence of
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||
the force which originally shaped the rock, and bend that force to his
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||
will.
|
||
The rock spun and the bells passed. The winds slowly died as
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||
daylight gave way to dusk and clouds rolled in from the sea. A candle
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||
guttered and extinguished itself in the sconce on the north wall. Jason
|
||
watched it fade and die, the light reflected in one of the stone's
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||
shinier surfaces, before giving up, his concentration broken. He
|
||
straightened slowly, the vertebrae popping and cracking their way back
|
||
into position as he did so, and eased his way to his feet. Feeling old
|
||
beyond his thirteen years, he leaned against the stairwell and let the
|
||
feeling return to his legs.
|
||
That done, he paced gingerly across the room, legs numb from so
|
||
much time spent sitting on a stone floor, and tried to chafe some warmth
|
||
into his backside. His legs eased as he wandered, and he eventually
|
||
decided he was fit enough to make his way to the top floor.
|
||
Looking up the stairwell, he saw that it was dark above, and so,
|
||
taking one of the remaining candles from the wall, he made his way up to
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||
his father's study, leaving the rock lying beside the bottom stair for
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||
use in his next attempt. Reaching the forbidding, arched doorway, he
|
||
paused to sigh before steeling himself to knock.
|
||
He rapped three times and waited for the invitation which he knew
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||
and dreaded. "Come," came a voice from behind the door. Sighing yet
|
||
again, he raised the lever and opened the door to a scene of perfect
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||
order.
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||
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||
Kilan Rainmaker's workplace was a study in neatness. Everything was
|
||
catalogued, ordered, and referenced in a leather bound tome on his desk.
|
||
Scrolls were stored in labelled leather cases on a shelf on the southern
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||
wall, with potions and powders below. Blocks of wood were stacked with
|
||
almost perfect symmetry to either side of the fireplace; its brass grate
|
||
still gleaming where the soot had not blackened it. A poker, brush, and
|
||
shovel sat to the right, and a number of dried peat blocks to the left
|
||
for use overnight. Three tomes sat on his desk -- two folio sized books
|
||
written in his own hand, and a smaller one, bound in green, tooled
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||
leather sitting atop them. All were aligned perfectly at the front right
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||
hand corner of the desk, while two oil lamps hissed gently at the back.
|
||
The man himself sat writing on a piece of parchment, long moustaches as
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||
black as the ink he used.
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||
Kilan noticed his son from the corner of his eye, but continued to
|
||
write a while. When he was finished, he cleaned and replaced his quill
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||
in the writing drawer, shook sand onto the paper to blot any excess ink,
|
||
and closed the drawer. Only then did he deign to look at his son.
|
||
"Did you unlock the stone, then?" he inquired, pale eyes looking
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||
into the boy.
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||
Jason sighed again, and replied. "No. I tried for bells. I can lock
|
||
the image in my mind, I just can't see inside it." His hands clenched in
|
||
frustration, and his head was lowered slightly as a result of yet
|
||
another defeat.
|
||
The older man huffed, obviously annoyed. "Jason, the quartz is the
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||
simplest stone to unlock." His exasperation showed plainly on his face.
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||
"Even to look at it, it is slightly translucent. Looking on an ethereal
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||
level, you should not have any trouble at all getting a glimpse of the
|
||
weaves that you need. I *know* that you can visualise properly. The way
|
||
you describe the things that you see -- you sound like your grandfather
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||
or myself. This skill is part of your heritage. If you would only learn
|
||
to use it, I *know* that you would do your ancestors proud." He fell
|
||
quiet as he began to see the depths to which this latest failure was
|
||
affecting his son. The boy wore a pained expression, and looked on the
|
||
verge of tears. He changed tack, and said gently, "Come, boy, and sit by
|
||
the fire. I know how cold it can be in that room at times," and standing
|
||
up, he placed a stool by the fire.
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||
Jason slunk across the room, and sat as far back on the stool as he
|
||
could in order to get the full benefit of the log fire behind him. His
|
||
father moved back to his own side of the desk and began to interrogate
|
||
him to find what had gone wrong. He sat back in his chair to think a
|
||
mene, then leaned forward, fingers steepled before him.
|
||
"If you close your eyes now, can you still visualise the stone?"
|
||
Jason sighed and complied with the request. Holding his head in his
|
||
hands, he closed his eyes and concentrated. After some moments, he
|
||
replied with a hushed "Yes."
|
||
Still looking at his son, Kilan went on. "Do you see any cracks in
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||
the stone?"
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||
Another uttered "Yes."
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||
"Move toward one of those cracks. Ease yourself into it and become
|
||
the stone. Feel it. Breathe it. Be it."
|
||
Silence. Jason's face started to twitch with the effort of
|
||
embracing rock. He looked as if he was about to say something, but his
|
||
mouth did little more than twitch. His eyes were still closed, but a
|
||
frown appeared on his brow.
|
||
Knowing that Jason was no longer at ease with his inner self, Kilan
|
||
interrupted. "Jason. Jason!" Jason's eyes opened, and he looked about in
|
||
desperation, at the window, at the desk, the walls, the books --
|
||
anywhere but at his father. His eyes were starting to show a wet sheen,
|
||
and his mouth opened and closed in a futile attempt to explain why he
|
||
could not force himself into the stone, no matter how he tried.
|
||
Kilan stood and walked around the desk. He knelt and held his son
|
||
to him as the tears started to eke from his eyes. "I can help you, you
|
||
know," he whispered in his son's ear as his hands made their way to the
|
||
youngster's temples. The boy broke free violently, overbalancing his
|
||
father as he jumped up, breathing hard. His eyes were wide in anger and
|
||
fear.
|
||
"No! I don't want you messing with my head like you did with my
|
||
mother's!"
|
||
"But Jason, I just want to take a look," said Kilan from his prone
|
||
position, looking hurt that his son could say such a thing. "I wouldn't
|
||
do anything, just try to find out why you can't get anywhere. If I know
|
||
where you fail, I can guide you past that point."
|
||
"No! I know what happened to my mother. I *know.* And though I
|
||
believe that you are a great weatherweaver, I just don't think you
|
||
understand people well enough to start playing with *their* weaves.
|
||
Maybe I'm just not destined to be like you, but please, accept that
|
||
rather than trying to change it." He then turned, ashamed of being so
|
||
forthright with his father, and made his way to the dim shadows of the
|
||
far wall. He leaned back into it, folding his arms in front of him in a
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||
sulk.
|
||
Kilan stood, using the desk for support, and made a shamefaced
|
||
appeal to his son. "Jason, I know that the past few years have been
|
||
hard, first with your mother dying ..." Jason rolled his eyes and
|
||
laughed a disgusted laugh, which his father chose to ignore. "... then
|
||
trying to unlock the power that you have in you. But that power is
|
||
*there,* son. You have it. I know you do. All you need to do is find a
|
||
way to take hold of it, and you will be well on your way to a good life.
|
||
Fishing towns like Armand pay well to have a weatherweaver nearby; you
|
||
see the evidence of that here." He gestured around the well furnished
|
||
room, watching his son's downcast eyes intently the whole time. "You
|
||
have that power, Jason. My father had it, as do I, and now you. Just let
|
||
me help you take it." The last was said as an appeal. Kilan watched his
|
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son, hoping to see him come to his senses, but saw only distrust when
|
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his son looked at him, holding his gaze for some moments before leaving,
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||
unbidden.
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|
||
Back in his room, Jason sat on his bed and hugged his knees to his
|
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chest. For two years he had been trying to get inside rocks, look beyond
|
||
the water, see the patterns in the clouds, and feel where the wind was
|
||
going. Not once had he succeeded. His father kept saying that he had
|
||
great potential, that he would become a great weatherweaver, that it was
|
||
in his bloodline, but Jason had tried and failed at any of the more
|
||
advanced exercises. He could see the outside of rocks, and hold that
|
||
image in his mind, but could never see past the surface. He could see
|
||
through the water, but never to anything other than the bowl holding it.
|
||
Clouds were just clouds, and while it was true that if you looked hard
|
||
enough you might see recognisable shapes, there were no consistent
|
||
patterns that he could see.
|
||
All this after two years of work. All that time spent in useless
|
||
effort, and he was getting nowhere. All this because his father said he
|
||
should follow in the family line, and become a weatherweaver. For two
|
||
long years he had tried, and failed. Not that his father was a bad
|
||
teacher -- he had helped his son through all the problems at the start,
|
||
before getting stuck on the problem of helping him see beyond the
|
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surface of an object. Kilan had spent four months trying to help, before
|
||
retreating to his study and telling his son to keep at it, that practice
|
||
was the key, and that it would come in time.
|
||
Rocking backwards, Jason put his head back and started to keen
|
||
softly, mourning over the loss of his childhood, his mother, two years
|
||
of his life, and his father, who had abandoned him in favour of his own
|
||
studies. Tears started to overflow from his eyes, and made an erratic
|
||
path down the side of his head, only to pool in his ears. If he did not
|
||
think he had failed his father before, the fact that Kilan was now
|
||
countenancing using the same type of magics on him that he had used to
|
||
disastrous effect on his own wife proved just how far Jason had fallen
|
||
in his father's esteem.
|
||
Slowly, his pained expression changed to one of resolve. The
|
||
rocking stopped, and he lay down flat on the bed, hands crossed behind
|
||
his head. There was a way out of this which should benefit everyone
|
||
concerned. A plan was coming together in his head. Once the creases were
|
||
pressed out, he considered a while and decided it had to be done. He
|
||
arose from the bed and made his way quietly to the kitchen to start his
|
||
preparations.
|
||
|
||
Kilan was slumped in the cushioned leather chair in his study, eyes
|
||
closed tightly as he knuckled his furrowed brow. Why could the boy not
|
||
understand that he needed help to get past this mental block? For over a
|
||
year now, Kilan had worked on spells which would help his son focus his
|
||
mind, and thereby his power. He knew it would work. It had to. The only
|
||
thing he had been unable to take into account was the paths that magic
|
||
ran through *within* his son, since the fool boy did not want any magics
|
||
directed towards him. Kilan could have wrenched the patterns from him,
|
||
but the boy would notice, and his trust was important.
|
||
Kilan bowed forward onto the desk, head resting on the cool
|
||
surface, and groaned as he considered his situation. He knew his son
|
||
would never trust any spell or potion that his father directed towards
|
||
him because of the misunderstanding over his mother's death. He knew his
|
||
son was reaching the end of his patience for magic, and would soon give
|
||
up even trying. And he knew that potential for power could not be
|
||
allowed to go to waste. Looking grim at what had to be done, Kilan
|
||
picked himself up and made his way to the shelves to retrieve a number
|
||
of mortars, pestles, weights and jars. A set of scales complemented the
|
||
weights, and he went to work, weaving a great magic into the herbs,
|
||
powders and roots, which would enhance and maintain its effects. In the
|
||
end, he tipped a small pile of dark green powder into a glass phial,
|
||
returned the ingredients and equipment to their proper places, and
|
||
trembling, went in search of his son.
|
||
|
||
When Kilan arrived in the small room which served as a kitchen, he
|
||
saw that his son had been busy. A black dough was rising in a large clay
|
||
bowl on one side of the kitchen -- seed-bread if he was not mistaken.
|
||
Eggs from the hens in the courtyard were laid out in preparation for
|
||
tomorrow's breakfast, as was a small slab of bacon. A peat fire could be
|
||
seen burning slowly in the grate, banked for the night.
|
||
Searching the stairs behind him for any sign of his son, Kilan made
|
||
his way furtively to the rising bread, and after checking behind him
|
||
again, took a last pensive look at the phial of powder before emptying
|
||
its contents into the bowl.
|
||
That done, he released a breath he had not realised he held. The
|
||
only sound was his heart pounding in his chest, and the shaky breaths he
|
||
took. He turned to sneak out of the room, but found his legs weak from
|
||
relief at having the task accomplished. He leaned back against the
|
||
trestle as he tried in vain to get his breath back, and holding his
|
||
hands incredulously before him, saw them shake from nervous energy.
|
||
Suddenly, a door banged shut somewhere down the stairs. Kilan
|
||
jumped, and looked around himself like the rabbit who spies the hawk,
|
||
and searches frantically for the nearest bolthole. He found one in the
|
||
bowl behind him, and spun to knead the dough.
|
||
Hearing his son arrive at the door and stop, Kilan realised that he
|
||
was still trembling. Releasing a shaky breath, he commented "Hard work
|
||
this breadmaking, isn't it?" The tension in his voice sang out to him.
|
||
He hoped it was mistaken for exertion.
|
||
Jason stood silent witness to the unusual sight of his father doing
|
||
any menial task. Since his mother had died, it was only on very rare
|
||
occasions that he had seen his father do any work away from his study or
|
||
rooftop. Jason held his place at the door, awaiting his father's next
|
||
move.
|
||
The dough back to a flattened state, Kilan turned to his son.
|
||
"Jason, I want to ... apologise. For what I did in the tower earlier."
|
||
Jason's eyebrows raised in surprise. This was something new.
|
||
Still in a state of controlled panic, Kilan grasped for the first
|
||
straw excuse that he could think of. "I had no right to even contemplate
|
||
probing the paths your power follows, especially when I know how you
|
||
feel about submitting to magic.
|
||
"Jason, I know what you think happened to your mother. But you're
|
||
wrong about me. She was dying, Jason. I had to do something to help her!
|
||
I know that I failed, but I've learned from that failure. I know what
|
||
went wrong, and I would never make the same mistake with you, my son."
|
||
He trembled still, but looked hopefully at the young man before him,
|
||
waiting to see the acceptance in his eyes.
|
||
Kilan was not the only one who shook. Jason's hands were clenched,
|
||
white-knuckled, at his sides. Only this did not look like fear or
|
||
trepidation. This was more like a controlled rage. Jason spoke in tones
|
||
which were as cold and measured as the words were considered. "My mother
|
||
was not dying. She was getting older. Your vanity was the only thing at
|
||
stake when you attempted to slow her ageing to the same rate as your
|
||
own. Only it doesn't work like that, does it, father? You knew that, but
|
||
you just couldn't accept it, could you. You believe in nothing but your
|
||
own superiority." Jason paused as his father's mouth worked silently up
|
||
and down. "You can't keep doing this, father. All that will happen is
|
||
you will end up killing someone else, and I don't want to be the
|
||
recipient of that particular gift."
|
||
With this, he turned slowly and left, thumping stiff-legged down
|
||
the stairs to his chamber. Kilan leaned weakly back against the trestle
|
||
as he took in what his son had said. Almost half a bell passed before he
|
||
eventually stood, and made his way back upstairs, whispering "It's not
|
||
true. This *will* work," but realising that his son must never know what
|
||
had been done to help realise his potential.
|
||
|
||
Jason hardly slept that night. He thought of the words which he had
|
||
never expected to say aloud to his father, and his father's reaction to
|
||
those words. He knew they would make no real difference -- his father's
|
||
ego had walls built higher and stronger than Magnus' own. He just didn't
|
||
want to have his flesh made cold the next time his father decided to go
|
||
against proven magical principles.
|
||
As the false dawn brought some small light to the sky, Jason
|
||
steeled his resolve and arose. He made his way to the kitchen and threw
|
||
some small sticks and larger logs on top of the peat which burned
|
||
beneath the oven, and opened the vent in front fully. Taking the side of
|
||
bacon, he rubbed the fat onto a metal tray and dumped the bread mixture
|
||
on top. After putting both bacon and tray into the oven, he returned to
|
||
his room to pack the few necessities he would need.
|
||
Spreading his blanket on the bed, he chose carefully. A linen shirt
|
||
was folded, and placed in the centre. Then came a fresh pair of
|
||
breeches, three pairs of thick woollen socks and a woollen pullover. He
|
||
looked around, confused. Something was probably missing, but he had all
|
||
the clothes he would need -- the only things missing were food and coin.
|
||
The food was cooking, and he had a few pennies of his own that would
|
||
have to do for money. He shrugged off the feeling and went instead for
|
||
slate and chalk, made his way to the kitchen, and composed a short note
|
||
to his father.
|
||
Finally, as the sun could be seen taking its leave of the horizon,
|
||
Jason left the note deliberately in the centre of the small kitchen
|
||
table. Juggling the hot bread and bacon which he had removed from the
|
||
oven, he made his way back to his chamber. Once there, he tore off a
|
||
side to chew on as he walked and piled the remainder on top of his
|
||
clothes, then wrapped the lot in his blanket. Taking a last look around,
|
||
he reluctantly left his room and headed for the courtyard, feeling every
|
||
bit the runaway that he was, but unbowed and unrepentant.
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|
||
A Daughter's Duty
|
||
by Mike Adams
|
||
<meadams@sunherald.infi.net>
|
||
6-10 Ober 1015
|
||
|
||
I lay in a bed -- whose bed I did not yet know -- and I struggled
|
||
through the dim forest of sleep, trying to reach the bright clearing of
|
||
the waking world. Usually I waken quickly; a man who carries a
|
||
sharp-edged weapon had better do so. But full awareness seemed to elude
|
||
me, as if to shield me from the savage truth.
|
||
Of course, with that thought, the mists cleared from my mind, and I
|
||
realized that some of my reluctance to waken was a result of the large
|
||
amount of drink I had consumed the previous night. I was sure I visited
|
||
more than one tavern, and I could clearly remember singing a bawdy song
|
||
while staggering down the street. What I could not recall was the face
|
||
of the maid who had taken me into her bed, and her body, if I was not
|
||
mistaken.
|
||
That question was answered as soon as I opened my eyes. The shock
|
||
of red hair told me what I needed to know. My gasp of surprise must have
|
||
awakened her, for she lifted her head, and looked fondly at me. I was
|
||
spared the necessity of a reply by a loud rap upon the bedroom door.
|
||
"Mistress Raneela," came a clear voice, quickly followed by the
|
||
head and upper body of one of the healer's apprentices. "There's a
|
||
Master Jetru what wants to see you," continued the young girl. "He says
|
||
he's lookin' for his bodyguard." The girl managed to look both startled
|
||
and disapproving concerning the man in her mistress' bed, but she
|
||
managed to hold her tongue.
|
||
Raneela responded with no hint of self-consciousness. "Tell Master
|
||
Jetru that I shall attend him shortly."
|
||
After the door shut, Raneela turned to me. "I can tell him you are
|
||
not here, if you wish," she said with a question in her look.
|
||
"No," I quickly replied, "I will see him." Apparently I had
|
||
answered too promptly, for the hurt on her face was obvious. I, however,
|
||
was completely baffled. Less than a sennight ago, this woman and I had
|
||
fought, and only two days ago she had forced me from her home. Confused
|
||
and hung over, I dressed as quickly as I could manage and escaped the
|
||
bedroom.
|
||
When I reached the main room, I herded Qanis out the door, barely
|
||
giving him time to place his mug of tea on a table.
|
||
"I didn't actually expect to find you there," Qanis said, as we
|
||
hustled through Dargon towards Qanis' house. "Only, that was the last
|
||
place I knew you were going, so I decided to start there. Quite
|
||
fortunate you were there."
|
||
As was his usual practice, Qanis continued without waiting for a
|
||
response. "I did manage to find some work for you only this morning, and
|
||
because I like you, I only took half my customary percentage." Qanis
|
||
flashed a weak smile at me, like that of a child who wants to be praised
|
||
for doing something distasteful.
|
||
"Thank you, Qanis," I murmured.
|
||
Satisfied, Qanis went on to tell me about my new job. It seemed
|
||
that a minor noble who traded his produce through Qanis had a daughter
|
||
who was getting married. The marriage had been arranged by the noble's
|
||
brother, one Lansing Bartol. Qanis said that this Lansing Bartol was not
|
||
only a bard, but a confidant of the Duke as well. The implication was
|
||
that taking care of the needs of this noble would put us in the good
|
||
graces of his brother, and possibly the Duke as well. I think Qanis was
|
||
more interested in his own opportunities, but even a mere mercenary can
|
||
find it useful now and again to know someone in power.
|
||
Apparently, the father, Laren Bartol, had been in Qanis' office,
|
||
settling his accounts with the trader, and during their conversation had
|
||
told Qanis that he had a feeling the girl was not entirely in favor of
|
||
the match. Unfortunately, he had duties at home he could not escape, and
|
||
would only arrive in Dargon on the day of the wedding.
|
||
Qanis, ever alert for opportunity, had offered my services, for a
|
||
reasonable fee, and all that remained was to convince me to take the
|
||
job. It seemed that Qanis was overly generous in calling this a job. It
|
||
seemed more like an errand, but I was in no position to quibble. If I
|
||
did not accept, I could end up having to ask Raneela for a place to
|
||
stay, and I was not ready to try to understand *that* situation.
|
||
Just before we arrived at Qanis' office, he told me offhandedly
|
||
that I would need a horse, but fortunately for me, he had recently
|
||
acquired one, complete with saddle and tack. I could use the horse for
|
||
this short journey, and if I wished, we would work out a deal for the
|
||
animal after I returned. Bemused by Qanis' thorough preparation, I
|
||
agreed.
|
||
Upon arriving at Qanis' home, I went directly to the small stable
|
||
to inspect the horse the trader expected me to buy. To my surprise the
|
||
horse was a fine specimen, a dark grey gelding. It has been said that
|
||
gelding a horse makes him docile, but I have always believed it just
|
||
focuses his attention on the important things.
|
||
From the way the horse snapped at my fingers when I reached for its
|
||
head, it had been through some training for combat. I spent the rest of
|
||
the day in the stable with the animal, whom I named Flanduil after a
|
||
mythical Mandrakan monster.
|
||
As a child my favorite story had always been the one concerning the
|
||
death of Flanduil, legendary protector of the House of Mandraka, at the
|
||
hand of Kess Dragonslayer.
|
||
|
||
The Slayers spear swiftly flew
|
||
Across the wide blood-dampened green,
|
||
Long would Mandraka keen,
|
||
When Flanduil, the Dark Hand slew.
|
||
|
||
I would dream that I avenged Flanduil upon that foul and hated
|
||
name. In Mandraka, even today, to be called a dragonslayer is a blood
|
||
insult.
|
||
By the time Qanis' cook called me for supper, I had acclimated the
|
||
horse to my presence enough to saddle it for a short journey, and had
|
||
then brushed and fed him.
|
||
|
||
Qanis' staff all went to bed with the sun, and I used the small
|
||
room I had been in only a few nights ago. I slept soundly, and rose as
|
||
usual, just before dawn. I washed my face and hands in the kitchen
|
||
basin, and went to the stable to saddle Flanduil. I had just finished
|
||
when I heard the clip-clop of another horse in the street. As I left the
|
||
stable I saw Qanis greeting a brown haired man of medium height. The
|
||
trader saw me and gestured me over. When I had joined them, Qanis spoke
|
||
to his companion.
|
||
"Milord," said Qanis, "this is Bren kel Tomis, master swordsman,
|
||
and a fine bodyguard."
|
||
I bobbed my head at the man, and said, "It is good to meet you,
|
||
milord. I appreciate the opportunity to serve you."
|
||
Bartol's voice had an unexpected bass tone. "I only wish it were
|
||
unnecessary. Be that as it may, we'll ride as soon as I finish with
|
||
Master Jetru. We'll be but a few moments."
|
||
With that, the two entered the building, apparently going to the
|
||
office. I went to the kitchen and quickly drank a mug of tea, scalding
|
||
my tongue. I packed a bag with bread, cold meat, and a wineskin full of
|
||
cider, and placed them in a saddlebag just as Bartol came out.
|
||
Several bells later the father, named Laren Bartol, and I were some
|
||
leagues out of Dargon City, heading southwest, towards Bartol's lands.
|
||
Lord Bartol kept to himself, and I am certainly not talkative, so it was
|
||
a quiet journey. The sun was warm for once, and when we stopped at a
|
||
small stream to eat our midday meal, I took off my cloak.
|
||
I shared my bread and meat with Bartol, who had cheese, and some
|
||
spicy sausages. We washed it down with the cider, and continued on our
|
||
way.
|
||
Just before sunset we stopped for the night at a tavern whose sign
|
||
was so faded and worn that I could not make out the name. The platter of
|
||
food we were served in the common room was not fit for animals, so I ate
|
||
the remainder of my lunch. I slept in the stable with the horses; it
|
||
looked and smelled cleaner. From the look Bartol gave me as I left for
|
||
the stable, I think he agreed.
|
||
|
||
Early the next afternoon we arrived at Bartol's estate. It was a
|
||
small holding, but looked prosperous. The animals were sleek, and the
|
||
small garden near the manor house was neat and well tended. There was a
|
||
solidly built stable near the garden, and after I had taken care of
|
||
Flanduil, I walked around the rest of the area, all of which spoke of a
|
||
man who took care of what was his. It seemed that Lord Bartol could
|
||
afford a decent dowry for his daughter.
|
||
I ate the evening meal in the kitchen in the presence of a
|
||
red-faced cook who was less inclined towards speech than her master. She
|
||
spoke not more than ten words while I ate, but she did cook rather well.
|
||
I had three portions of the roast fowl, which was smothered in a
|
||
delicious onion gravy, although the dressing was a little rich for my
|
||
liking. There was no cider, but the beer was cool and refreshing.
|
||
Just as I finished eating, mopping up gravy with warm dark bread, a
|
||
young servant entered the kitchen and walked up to the table where I
|
||
sat. He tried to stand as tall as possible, but I guessed him at no more
|
||
than six or seven years of age. The page, probably the son of an ally
|
||
receiving his training, finally spoke.
|
||
"Sir Fighter," he said, "Milord requests you come to the hall."
|
||
"Right away, page," I replied, keeping my voice serious. I could
|
||
remember how afraid I had been, far from my family, as a young page at
|
||
the College of Heralds. As we walked out of the kitchen, I leaned over
|
||
and said quietly, "I am no knight, my boy. Call me Master Bren. If a
|
||
true knight hears you name a man Sir who is not, there will be trouble."
|
||
I ruffled his hair to show him I meant no harm.
|
||
We entered the hall, a room I estimated at about fifteen strides
|
||
deep by ten wide, large enough for its purpose. The walls were covered
|
||
in tapestries, the usual method used to help keep out the cold. At the
|
||
far end of the room burning logs crackled and sparked in a large
|
||
fireplace. A long table was placed across the room not too far from the
|
||
fireplace, individual chairs on the far side, and a bench opposite the
|
||
chairs. All in all, a very typical manor hall.
|
||
There were three men seated on the left, and two women on the
|
||
right, but the only person I recognized was Bartol, who sat at the far
|
||
left, sifting through some documents.
|
||
"Milord," piped up the little page, "Master Bren at your request."
|
||
Bartol looked up from his papers. "Thank you, Reen, see if cook can
|
||
get you some dinner." The page, Reen, bowed hastily, and sped back to
|
||
the kitchen.
|
||
"Master Bren, sit here with me," Bartol said, gesturing to the
|
||
bench across from him.
|
||
"Thank you, milord," I said, approaching the bench.
|
||
My lady wife, and my daughter, Jeleen," Bartol said, starting the
|
||
introductions.
|
||
"Ladies, it is a pleasure," I said. It seldom is, but the forms
|
||
must be followed by all parties in these social transactions, and the
|
||
two women smiled at me as if they cared what I thought about meeting
|
||
them.
|
||
As I sat down, Lord Bartol went on, "This is my seneschal, Kitron,
|
||
and Sregon, a priest of Ol, who will bless the marriage."
|
||
I nodded at the seneschal, a thin, frail looking man, and murmured
|
||
politely, "Greetings, seneschal." I ignored the priest, as is my wont,
|
||
and after a moment of silence, his fat, bearded, face went red. I was
|
||
not concerned, however, for unlike insulting a noble, a priest won't
|
||
have you whipped. They usually threatened damnation of some sort, a
|
||
threat which never upset me. I found it strange that the gods used such
|
||
fools to be their fleshly representatives.
|
||
No one else had noticed the byplay. Bartol had continued, "Kitron
|
||
and I are riding the borders of our land tomorrow with my neighbor to
|
||
the west. He has just inherited, and it can't be put off."
|
||
I was aware of the tradition of riding a common border. It usually
|
||
occured when a new lord came into his inheritance. It didnt solve all
|
||
border disputes, but it did reduce the number of complaints.
|
||
"We are due in Dargon in a few days for the wedding," continued
|
||
Bartol, "But Jeleen must spend some time with the seamstress, fitting
|
||
her wedding clothes, which is why I need you to take her there."
|
||
"But Father, I told you I will not marry him!" The sudden outburst
|
||
from Jeleen surprised me, but not her mother, who quickly turned and
|
||
slapped the girl full across the face.
|
||
"Your father has spoken, and you will obey him," Lady Bartol
|
||
exclaimed loudly. "And while you ponder your ill ways, you can ensure
|
||
the servants have packed your things properly." Jeleen, the red slap
|
||
mark clear upon her cheek, was dismissed with a small wave of her
|
||
mother's hand.
|
||
Outwardly, I maintained a neutral expression. After all, when
|
||
everyone lives in the same three or four rooms, privacy is a rare thing.
|
||
It is only good manners to pretend not to see certain things. Otherwise,
|
||
we would soon be unable to coexist in harmony.
|
||
Inwardly, I applauded Lady Bartol's open support of her husband. It
|
||
seemed to me that many women sought to strive against the natural
|
||
superiority of men, and often assumed rights and privileges not their
|
||
own. The society which succeeded was one in which men and women took on
|
||
the roles for which they were properly suited.
|
||
After Jeleen had left, Bartol turned to me and spoke for my ear
|
||
alone, "She is a good girl, kel Tomis, although a bit headstrong. After
|
||
this outburst I am almost tempted to miss my border ride, but I cannot.
|
||
Watch her closely, and deliver her safely to my brother."
|
||
"On that you have my word, milord," I replied, as quietly as
|
||
Bartol.
|
||
Just then a servant entered the room with a wick, to light the
|
||
torches in the hall, as it was now approaching dark. Bartol sent her
|
||
from the room, announcing to everyone, "It is an early start tomorrow, I
|
||
suggest we retire." Bartol and his lady left, and then the rest of us
|
||
trailed out.
|
||
I laid out my bedroll in the common room with the servants. Several
|
||
were already snoring near the fire, which had been banked for the night.
|
||
Quickly blocking out the ghastly chorus, I was asleep in moments.
|
||
|
||
I was up early enough the next morning to step outside and see
|
||
Bartol and his sons empty their stirrup cups and ride away. To my
|
||
disgust, however, it was nearly midday before my small party left for
|
||
Dargon. Jeleen and her maidservants delayed at every turn. I nearly
|
||
turned the pretty wretch over my knee several times, but forbore from
|
||
doing so, retaining some dignity, if not temper.
|
||
I got my first good look at the girl that morning. She was not the
|
||
kind to turn men's heads, but she was pretty enough. Moderately tall,
|
||
she wore her dark brown hair tied up neatly on top of her head. She was
|
||
well shaped, and looked to have the hips to bear children without much
|
||
difficulty. That is always important in a bride.
|
||
At long last, we left the mansion. I had the larger of the three
|
||
male servants ride ahead, and hoped he would not have to draw the short
|
||
sword which hung awkwardly from his hip. I had spent a short while that
|
||
morning determining the male servants' abilities, and I was none too
|
||
encouraged. Jalosh, riding up front, was the best of the three, and I
|
||
was sure he'd wet his breeches before dropping his sword and running, in
|
||
the event of an attack. Fortunately the road was well traveled, and
|
||
considered quite safe. Jeleen's two maidservants were next, followed by
|
||
another man, Jeleen, myself, and the last servant.
|
||
We made slow progress, Jeleen using any excuse to call a stop. I
|
||
made attempts to speed our progress, but I did not press the issue. By
|
||
mid afternoon I knew we would have to make a camp for the night, and I
|
||
started looking for a suitable location. About half a bell before
|
||
sunset, I called a halt, and directed the servants to make their
|
||
preparations.
|
||
As they did so I scouted the vicinity, for I had a good notion
|
||
about what Jeleen might have planned, and I wanted to be ready to
|
||
counter her. When I returned to the camp, a small pavilion had been set
|
||
up for Jeleen, and the bedrolls were in place. After a short meal of
|
||
bread, cold meat, and hot tea, I chivvied everyone to their respective
|
||
bedrolls. I had purposely laid my bedroll near the horses so that I
|
||
would be out of the view of those near the fire.
|
||
As soon as it was dark, I quietly rose and moved away from the
|
||
camp, and took up a post near a trail leading away from Dargon. Soon my
|
||
scouting paid off. Someone was leading a horse up the trail, someone not
|
||
well used to either horses or woods.
|
||
I waited for the person to pass me by. If it was Jeleen, I knew
|
||
from my observations that morning that she wouldn't be able to mount
|
||
before I could stop her. If I did not stand between her and the camp,
|
||
she might see me, and retreat, rousing the servants and causing a
|
||
disturbance I knew neither of us wanted. As soon as Jeleen had passed,
|
||
for it was indeed her, I stepped out from my place of hiding, and spoke.
|
||
"The night air is refreshing, is it not, milady?"
|
||
Jeleen, startled out of her wits, dropped the reins and made a
|
||
strange squeal deep in her throat. The frightened horse tried to bolt,
|
||
but was between Jeleen and myself. Cursing myself a fool for being
|
||
unnecessarily dramatic, I quickly grabbed the reins and calmed the
|
||
horse. I then took the girl by the arm and led both her and the horse
|
||
back to the camp.
|
||
Once the horse had been picketed, I stoked the fire and made a pot
|
||
of tea. I glanced over occasionally as I worked, and could see by her
|
||
stiff posture that she was angry. Taking two cups of the steaming brew,
|
||
I stepped across the camp of still sleeping servants to the log on the
|
||
eastern edge of the camp where Jeleen sat, pouting over her failure to
|
||
escape.
|
||
At first she refused the cup, but soon the chill of the night
|
||
airimproved her judgement, and we sat on the log, sipping tea and
|
||
listening to the night. It was very companionable, and I waited for some
|
||
time, letting her calm down and regain what sense she normally retained.
|
||
I started the conversation by asking, "So, what is his name, then?"
|
||
Jeleen's surprised expression told me that she thought her secret
|
||
well hid, but she responded anyway. "His name is Oburt, and I love him,"
|
||
she said, ending with a note of belligerence.
|
||
"I'm sure you think you do, my girl," I replied, "But you have an
|
||
obligation to your family that supersedes your personal desires and
|
||
wishes. Your father has agreed a match, for the good of the family. Your
|
||
responsibility is to your family, not yourself."
|
||
"What would you know about duty?" Jeleen countered, scathingly.
|
||
"You're nothing but a common mercenary."
|
||
I paused, trying to decide whether to speak openly to the girl, to
|
||
help her understand where her duty lay, or just to bundle her up and
|
||
deliver her as quickly as possible to Dargon.
|
||
"I have not always been a mere fighter," I replied, having decided.
|
||
"I have been much more, and fallen from a greater height than you know."
|
||
I hesitated again, ashamed, but then I continued, realizing that my own
|
||
failure to my duty spoke more clearly than cliched platitudes. "I once
|
||
held high rank in the service of my king," I began. "It was a position
|
||
of great responsibility, and duty was my god. One day, however, not much
|
||
more than a moon ago, I met a woman. I became lost in her, her manner
|
||
..." My voice trailed off as I recalled Kira, who has used me so badly.
|
||
Even now, I ached at the thought of her.
|
||
"Was she beautiful?" asked Jeleen, sounding caught up in my tale.
|
||
"I have never seen any maid who caught my breath like she did," I
|
||
replied wistfully. "But her heart was as black as her hair, and that was
|
||
my undoing. She asked me to commit a wrong, and I did it gladly for her
|
||
love. It was not until afterwards, when she had no more use for me, that
|
||
I realized what a grievous wrong I had done."
|
||
I recalled the blow that had cut down Regan kel Bor, and shuddered.
|
||
"Kel Bor was no more. I had killed a good man, and betrayed my duty, for
|
||
nothing. I can taste the bitterness of that feeling even now. When I
|
||
arrived home, my king stripped me of position and honor, and exiled me
|
||
to this far land, where the rain and cold may well be the death of me."
|
||
"You poor man," Jeleen commiserated. She placed a hand on mine, and
|
||
squeezed gently. "You have been through much."
|
||
"You think that the end?" I laughed grimly. "Those punishments are
|
||
nothing. The true penalty is in my own heart. I now know that I am a
|
||
mere man, bound to fail, and fail miserably. I have no honor, and so my
|
||
soul is bereft." The pain became so intense that I could no longer
|
||
contain it. Tears ran unbidden from my eyes. From my throat came the
|
||
whispered words, "Toran! Help me!"
|
||
Now undone, sobs wracked my body. I could feel Jeleen holding me,
|
||
trying to comfort me, and I slowly gained control of my emotions as the
|
||
moments passed.
|
||
"I am sure your god will give you the strength you need," she
|
||
whispered to me, mistaking my cry to my slain friend.
|
||
"I worship no gods," I replied quietly. "Toran was my companion, a
|
||
great friend who fought by my side, and another good man who died
|
||
because of me. You see, I punish myself, and I see no end to it. I
|
||
struggle through each day, hoping to make some small step towards
|
||
redeeming my soul, my honor, my duty. That is the precipice upon which
|
||
you stand, dear girl. Step away from your desire, and towards your duty,
|
||
or you will surely regret it, as I have."
|
||
She pulled back from me for a moment, frightened by the intensity
|
||
in my voice. Then she nodded her head, and no longer appeared afraid.
|
||
We spoke for a long time. She opened up to me, speaking of her
|
||
father, and her uncle. As the bells passed, I could sense that she was
|
||
coming to the right decision in her mind. Sometime during the night, I
|
||
retrieved my cloak, and placed it around her, warding her from the cold.
|
||
There, in the quiet dark, I examined my soul. I hadn't spoken to
|
||
Jeleen about Raneela, but the healer had not been far from my thoughts
|
||
that night. I could not say that I returned her obvious affection, but I
|
||
knew that I had again shirked a duty. I had treated her shamefully, and
|
||
another blot was on me.
|
||
I felt the black mood coming on me again, but this time I resolved
|
||
to fight it. I had admitted my weakness to Jeleen, and in doing so had
|
||
finally admitted it to myself. I now knew I could fail, and the
|
||
knowledge made me stronger in a way I did not yet understand. With that
|
||
thought, the mood retreated, and my heart was less heavy in me. I had
|
||
reached an epiphany in that moment, as if I had waited my whole life to
|
||
come to that realization that I could fail, and still yet succeed by
|
||
persevering.
|
||
Just before sunrise, having been quiet for a while, she said, "What
|
||
about Oburt? I cannot just forget him, even though I do my duty."
|
||
I chuckled out loud, but quickly stopped, seeing the hurt look from
|
||
the offended girl. "Jeleen, you do not have to forget him. Wait for a
|
||
time, and then send for him."
|
||
Jeleen looked shocked. "But my duty ..."
|
||
I interrupted her, "You must never dishonor your husband, and your
|
||
public face must always be one of love and support. But the nobility are
|
||
as human as any other; they have the same desires as any other. As long
|
||
as you do not make a fool of your husband, no one will object; it is
|
||
done all the time. I am sure your husband will do the same. When you get
|
||
to Dargon, make friends with some of the other wives, and they will show
|
||
you how the dance is done."
|
||
We watched the sun break through the floor of the world, and then
|
||
roused the others. The days' travel went smoothly, and Jeleen and I
|
||
spent most of the time talking of inconsequential things. I felt
|
||
relieved that I could talk to her; we had become close friends in a
|
||
short night.
|
||
That is one reason I despised the priesthood. They wanted your
|
||
soul, but not your friendship. I remember many long talks with Toran
|
||
over a mug or three, and cannot recall ever seeing one priest in the
|
||
tavern. Never trust a man who will not drink with you; it is a good rule
|
||
to live by.
|
||
We made quick time this day, and before the sun was three quarters
|
||
across the sky, our path joined the Street of Travelers, and Dargon Keep
|
||
loomed in the sky. At this time of day most traffic was headed away from
|
||
the keep, so we made good time, and were at the gates well before
|
||
sunset. I ordered the servants to wait under the stern eyes of one of
|
||
the guards at the Keep gate.
|
||
We passed into the inner courtyard, and I took a moment to glance
|
||
around. While not as grand as The Breakers, the castle of the King of
|
||
Mandraka, Dargon Keep was impressive. The three towers protected the
|
||
keep from the river and the sea, while the steep, winding road leading
|
||
to the gate would prevent a large scale assault on the landward side.
|
||
"Gardener," I called out, speaking to an old man weeding between
|
||
the courtyard paving stones. "How do I find Lord Bartol?"
|
||
Leaning on his hoe, the peasant paused, and then replied, "Through
|
||
that door, milord, then down the hallway, to the main hall. There you'll
|
||
find the bard." Casually turning away, he continued his work.
|
||
Jeleen and I were reached the corridor the gardener had described,
|
||
where a clerk took Jeleen's name, and promised to reach Bartol as soon
|
||
as possible, although when that be could be hard to say. Jeleen seemed
|
||
out of her depth here, so I stepped up to the small table.
|
||
"Would this help you to locate Lord Bartol?" I asked, laying a
|
||
Royal on the table.
|
||
"Lord Bartol shall be with you presently," the clerk responded with
|
||
a smile. I shook my head in resignation. It seemed that every clerk in
|
||
every castle was cut from the same fabric.
|
||
The clerk hissed at a page, and we were escorted to a small chamber
|
||
outside the Grand Hall. It was furnished only with several chairs, and
|
||
apparently functioned as a temporary waiting room. Soon there were
|
||
footsteps in the corridor outside, and the door opened.
|
||
"Uncle!" cried Jeleen, who threw herself at the tall, dark-haired
|
||
man in the doorway. The reunion was over in short order, and when Bartol
|
||
glanced at me, Jeleen introduced me.
|
||
"Uncle, this is Bren kel Tomis, a personal friend who accompanied
|
||
me to Dargon," she said, exaggerating our relationship somewhat. Bartol
|
||
thrust his hand out to me, and in reflex, I clasped his forearm in the
|
||
greeting of equals.
|
||
"Milord," I said, "The lady is too kind. I was hired by her father
|
||
to bring her to you. If you wish, I will escort her to your home, and
|
||
then take my leave."
|
||
"No, Uncle," Jeleen interjected, "He has done me a great favor. I
|
||
owe him a debt, and since we are family, you also owe him a debt." As
|
||
she said the last, she turned and smiled at me, and I was satisfied that
|
||
she seemed to understand her duty.
|
||
Bartol looked at me again, in a more appraising manner. I did not
|
||
turn from his inspection, and he spoke. "You seem to have affected our
|
||
Jeleen, Master kel Tomis. You are from Mandraka, are you not? I seem to
|
||
recall that style of naming."
|
||
"I am, milord. It is a way of retaining our link to the land. My
|
||
father was the Count of Tomis. As a noble son, I was allowed to insert
|
||
'kel' in my name."
|
||
Jeleen turned to me with a piqued look, as if I had withheld
|
||
information from her. Bartol just smiled and nodded, then spoke, "Well,
|
||
kel Tomis, I will have a servant escort you and my niece to my home. How
|
||
may I find you later, if I so wish?"
|
||
"A message sent through the trader Qanis Jetru, on Commercial
|
||
Street, should reach me," I replied.
|
||
With that, we took our leave, and followed the servant Bartol had
|
||
summoned. We walked through the streets of Dargon, the sky darkening
|
||
around us. Once we arrived at Bartol's house, Jeleen wept and held me
|
||
for a moment. I had never had a relationship with a woman that didn't
|
||
involve sex, but it was good to return her embrace without ardor. I said
|
||
goodbye and left the housestepping into the cool evening air.
|
||
Leading my horse, it wasn't until I was ten paces down the street
|
||
that I realized I didn't know where I was going to stay. I didn't have a
|
||
home, and I would not impose on Raneela. I paused in the middle of the
|
||
street, oblivious to all. Maybe a small gift would be a good start for
|
||
my apology to her. Finally, I turned towards Qanis' house. I decided
|
||
that he could put me up for the night. Tomorrow I would find a place of
|
||
my own, and continue rebuilding my life.
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|
||
Deliverance
|
||
Part 1
|
||
by John Doucette
|
||
<jdoucet@cycor.ca>
|
||
24 Sy, 1014
|
||
|
||
Magnus, Royal Duchy, Baranur
|
||
24 Sy, 1014 B.Y.
|
||
|
||
The night sky was aglow with the fires raging among the
|
||
closely-packed buildings across the river. Great columns of smoke boiled
|
||
up into the night, obscuring the stars. Nochturon slowly marched across
|
||
the sky, silent witness to the events transpiring in Magnus' poorest
|
||
quarter. You could hear the screams.
|
||
The light from the fires illuminated the Laraka, mighty even this
|
||
far upriver. The silhouettes of biremes, and the occasional trireme
|
||
sitting at anchor near the middle of the river stood out in stark
|
||
contrast to the masses of flame hungrily consuming all on the river's
|
||
eastern bank. The docks hard against the massive walls of the Old
|
||
Districts on the western bank and the wreckage of what was Kheva's
|
||
Bridge were lit with torches. Sentries walked slowly back and forth in
|
||
the torches' light, alert for any sally by the enemy encamped but a
|
||
league or two eastward.
|
||
The eastern half of Baranur's capital was not totally occupied by
|
||
the enemy. Five thousand troops of the Magnus Militia and the Legion of
|
||
Death still manned the walls of the New Districts. Those troops did not
|
||
need torchlight -- the fires sweeping the Fifth Quarter were racing
|
||
towards the fortifications the soldiers of Baranur now occupied.
|
||
High up on the ramparts of the Old Districts, on a section of wall
|
||
that formed part of the defences of the Royal Quarter itself, a man
|
||
stood and watched. He was of slightly more-than-average height. He wore
|
||
a black surcoat over a plain shirt and trews. A dagger rode on his hip
|
||
and a squared cross with a black pearl set in its centre hung from a
|
||
silver chain around his neck. The scar on his face running from the
|
||
right side of his forehead down to his left cheek lent his face a
|
||
sinister aspect in the flickering light of the torches atop the walls.
|
||
He did not speak to the sentries nearby, merely stood there and stared
|
||
across the river as half of Magnus died in fire and agony. Half of the
|
||
city that was the heart of his adopted homeland. Half of the city that
|
||
he was charged to protect and defend. He was Knight Commander of the
|
||
Armies. His name was Sir Edward Sothos.
|
||
|
||
At six feet even, the figure that emerged from the tower onto the
|
||
wall was tall for a man, even more so for a woman. She drew her cloak
|
||
around herself and looked along the wall for someone. When she found the
|
||
person for whom she was looking, she started unhurriedly toward him,
|
||
nodding to the saluting sentries as she passed, her red hair catching
|
||
the torchlight.
|
||
She stopped next to the man and looked out upon the fires on the
|
||
east bank of the Laraka. The wind this high-up was cool, even for high
|
||
summer, and she gathered her cloak more tightly around herself as she
|
||
shivered. She glanced down at the man beside her, and, noting his
|
||
expression -- or lack thereof -- she let out a sigh.
|
||
She looked away across the Laraka once more. "I thought I might
|
||
find you here."
|
||
The man did not move, did not turn his head, did not even change
|
||
the position of his hands on the battlements. "You thought true, then,"
|
||
he responded in a neutral voice.
|
||
"Do not do this to yourself, Edward," she said, staring outward.
|
||
"Come down."
|
||
"I am not favourably disposed to argue with you this night,
|
||
Commander," Sir Edward stated in a cold voice.
|
||
Jan let out an exasperated breath and turned to face her friend and
|
||
commander. "What good shall this do? Will your being here put out those
|
||
fires?" she asked, pointing. "Will your being here make any difference
|
||
to those across the river?"
|
||
Sir Edward turned his head to answer. "Mayhap not. It will satisfy,
|
||
in some small measure, mine own honour." Sir Edward indicated the fires
|
||
raging on the far bank. "At the very least I owe it to those who have
|
||
died because I failed them."
|
||
Jan slapped the stone hard with her hand. "Failed! Gods' Blood!
|
||
Failed? How? How have you failed, Edward? It was not you who ordered us
|
||
out to meet the enemy! It was not you who ran at the first sign the
|
||
battle was going against us! If the King had not--"
|
||
"*Enough!*" Edward's shout shattered the night like sword on
|
||
shield, startling the sentries. "You forget your place, Commander
|
||
Courymwen!"
|
||
Jan had not seen Sir Edward truly angry on very many occasions and
|
||
the sight that greeted her now made her pale somewhat. She swallowed and
|
||
held her ground. "Do I?" she asked in the same quiet tones with which
|
||
she began the conversation. "You know I speak the truth, sir, you know
|
||
it! I do not malign the King, I swear I do not! I am a member of The
|
||
King's Own, I would never speak ill of His Royal Majesty! It is not
|
||
treason to look upon one's commander in the cold light of reason and
|
||
judge his actions. The King erred in putting Northfield before you and
|
||
that is why we are faced with such an unhappy position as now presents
|
||
itself."
|
||
Edward said nothing, merely turned to stare across the river again.
|
||
To those who knew him, his silence at Jan's statements showed her
|
||
arguments had struck their mark. "It does not matter. The duty was --
|
||
*is* -- mine and mine alone."
|
||
Jan cursed under her breath, her hands curling into fists. She
|
||
hated it when Edward got this way. She cared deeply for this foreigner
|
||
who had become her dear friend, but there were times when his honour and
|
||
sense of duty were absolutely aggravating.
|
||
She sighed, admitting defeat, and tried to salvage some sort of
|
||
victory. "Will you not at least come down and get some sleep?" When she
|
||
got no answer, she moved closer, laying her hand on his arm. "Please,
|
||
sir," she implored, "you have not slept in three days." When Edward made
|
||
as if to protest, she added, "What good will it do for the commander to
|
||
be so fatigued that he cannot think clearly?"
|
||
Edward shifted his gaze to the small fleet of ships in the river.
|
||
"It is fear," he said quietly.
|
||
"Sir?"
|
||
Edward placed his right hand over Jan's and squeezed. "I am afraid
|
||
we shall lose this battle."
|
||
A cold feeling swept over Jan. She had not -- *ever* -- in the six
|
||
years she had known this man heard him admit to fear. Not even at the
|
||
news of the disaster of Shark's Cove had he shown fear. "Surely we have
|
||
force enough to hold until Knight Captain Westbrook arrives?"
|
||
Edward let out a small, despairing grunt of a laugh. "Martis is en
|
||
route, true, but with not much force. The greater part of the army of
|
||
the Southern Marches must, of necessity, remain in the South to contest
|
||
with the forces of Beinison so present. There," he said, pointing
|
||
eastward, "but one or two leagues distant lie two-score thousand of the
|
||
enemy's best. We can muster five thousand on the far bank and an
|
||
additional nine on this. Knight Captain Connall has indicated that he
|
||
can raise no more troops from the North at short call, and short call is
|
||
what we must be content with. Even were I to order General Verde to
|
||
concentrate her cavalry on Magnus this instant, that would but add seven
|
||
thousand to our tally. We would still be outnumbered as near as to
|
||
two-to-one as makes no difference."
|
||
Edward nodded at the far bank and spoke in a semi-detached
|
||
monotone. "Untar has bigger siege engines than we have and more of them.
|
||
In the morning, once the fires have burned themselves out, his troops
|
||
shall swarm over the walls and take the New Districts. Once he has the
|
||
far bank, he will move his siege engines to the shore and pound our
|
||
fleet to dust. Once the ships are gone, he shall be able to cross the
|
||
Laraka unopposed. He will surround us, besiege us, and starve us out."
|
||
Sir Edward turned to face his aide and friend. "This army is the
|
||
last we can muster. The fate of Magnus is the fate of Baranur."
|
||
Jan tried to assume a cheerful air. "Well, staying awake worrying
|
||
over it will do neither of us any good, will it?"
|
||
Edward nodded. "Let us go, then." Jan smiled and turned to walk
|
||
towards the tower. Edward looked one last time across the water then
|
||
moved to follow.
|
||
|
||
Someone had grabbed a hold of Edward's shoulder and was shaking him
|
||
fiercely. Edward tried to twist out of his adversary's grasp and when
|
||
that proved to no avail, he lashed out, only to have his wrist enclosed
|
||
in a grip of iron. Whomever it was seemed to shout at him.
|
||
"Sir!"
|
||
Edward opened his eyes to find Captain Daniel Moore standing over
|
||
him. Edward groaned and shut his eyes. "What is it, Daniel?" he asked in
|
||
a groggy voice.
|
||
"You asked me to waken you before half-noon, sir," Daniel answered
|
||
in an apologetic voice.
|
||
Edward sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Is it that already?",
|
||
he enquired.
|
||
"Sorry, sir." Daniel straightened. "Shall I leave you to sleep
|
||
awhile yet?"
|
||
Edward smiled slightly, the scar seeming not so harsh as usual.
|
||
"No, Daniel. Much as I would dearly love to do so, there is too much to
|
||
do." He opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. "My
|
||
compliments to King's General Wainwright and would he assemble all unit
|
||
commanders for Council of War. Also, go you to His Royal Majesty and
|
||
would the King's Grace, and whatever of his advisors he so determines,
|
||
attend the council at the King's pleasure."
|
||
Daniel saluted and was halfway out the door when Edward called him
|
||
back. "What of General Verde, Daniel?"
|
||
"She and her commanders arrived within the last bell or so, Your
|
||
Excellency."
|
||
"Good. Convey them to the council as well."
|
||
Daniel nodded and left, shutting the door quietly behind him.
|
||
Edward lowered himself back down onto his bed and sighed, rubbing the
|
||
sleep from his eyes. He was tempted, sorely tempted, to let himself fall
|
||
back to sleep.
|
||
Edward lay there for several menes, working up the energy to get up
|
||
and moving. With a sudden, decisive exhale of breath, he flung the
|
||
bedclothes from him and made his way over to the large chest next to the
|
||
stand on which his mail and gambeson hung. He opened the chest and
|
||
selected a pair of brown trews. He put on the trews, belted them, and
|
||
then pulled on a set of heavy leather boots sitting behind the chest.
|
||
Next, he took the gambeson from its stand and shrugged himself into it.
|
||
Finally, he removed his mail from its stand and spent the next several
|
||
menes struggling into his armour.
|
||
Once Edward was satisfied that his mail was as comfortably seated
|
||
as he could get it, he pulled on his surcoat, belted on his sword and
|
||
dagger, and then put on both his chain of office as Knight Commander and
|
||
his wreath of honour that marked him as a knight of Galicia.
|
||
He left his suite of rooms and walked briskly through the halls of
|
||
Crown Castle, making his way toward the Council Chamber, the very same
|
||
room where the decision for war was debated the past winter. Edward
|
||
rounded the corner leading to the chamber, noting the two members of The
|
||
King's Own standing guard. They saluted smartly and opened the doors.
|
||
The Royal Army officers, some two dozen or so, noble and common
|
||
alike, stood as Edward entered the chamber. Only the King and his
|
||
advisors, and the nobles who were not part of the army, and thus, not
|
||
under Edward's direct authority, did not stand.
|
||
The room was fifty feet across and circular. A raised dais was
|
||
against the wall to the right of the doorway. King Haralan sat in a
|
||
single high-backed chair in the centre of the dais. Flanking him were
|
||
his advisors in several smaller-backed chairs. The King had chosen only
|
||
his seneschal and the High Priest of Stevene to accompany him to the
|
||
council. A page and two additional guards stood behind the King, the
|
||
guards on the extreme right and left of the dais.
|
||
Starting to the left of the doorway and running along the wall
|
||
almost to the dais were a series of stone benches arranged in the style
|
||
of an amphitheater, leaving a ten-foot diameter space in the middle of
|
||
the room between the dais and the benches.
|
||
Edward strode into the chamber, nodding at King's General
|
||
Wainwright, General Verde, and one or two of the other assembled
|
||
officers and nobles. Edward bowed to the King, and Haralan indicated
|
||
with a nod and a glance that Edward should begin.
|
||
Edward turned and spoke to the assembly. "Please, take your comfort
|
||
that we may begin." The army officers sat amidst a great cacophony of
|
||
armour against stone. Edward waited for them to finish seating
|
||
themselves before continuing.
|
||
"Time grows short, our options grow limited, and the enemy grows
|
||
restless. Thus, I shall dispense with the usual pleasantries and get
|
||
straight to the meat of the matter." As he spoke, Edward let his gaze
|
||
roam over the faces of his audience. On some he saw fear, on others,
|
||
resignation and despair, on most determination. On all he saw the marks
|
||
of sleeplessness. In private, Edward would grudgingly admit to most of
|
||
those feelings. In public, things were different. In public, a leader
|
||
must convey confidence and decisiveness. And so, Edward buried his
|
||
misgivings deep within, smiled slightly, and went on in an upbeat tone
|
||
and manner.
|
||
"Your Royal Majesty, Your Graces, officers of the Royal Army.
|
||
Within a day, two at the outside, the last resistance in the New
|
||
Districts shall be crushed and the east bank of the Laraka River shall
|
||
be in the hands of the enemy. Once that happens, we shall, of necessity,
|
||
be forced to send the Laraka River Flotilla down river -- Gateway or
|
||
Port Sevlyn -- and Untar and his self-styled 'Fist of the Emperor' shall
|
||
cross to this side unopposed."
|
||
Edward noted the general reaction of dismay in his audience. He
|
||
smiled once more. "We can expect to face thirty-five to forty thousand
|
||
of the enemy. Against such strength we can muster the better part of
|
||
nine thousand, discounting the cavalry and whatever force Knight Captain
|
||
Westbrook may bring."
|
||
"I note a decided lack of enthusiasm on your faces for these
|
||
figures, however, figures are not all. We have sufficient strength that
|
||
a direct assault would prove too costly, even for one as arrogant as
|
||
Untar. While he may be able to take the Merchant's Quarter, or mayhap
|
||
even the Royal Quarter, Crown Castle's fortifications are not conducive
|
||
to a quick reduction. Therefore, he must siege us. Therein lies our
|
||
hope."
|
||
He shifted his stance somewhat, casually resting his hand upon his
|
||
sword-hilt. "General Verde," he asked, addressing his question to the
|
||
recently-promoted General of the Cavalry, "how long would it take you to
|
||
concentrate your Hussars?"
|
||
Verde pushed her fingers through her blonde tresses, her eyes
|
||
narrowed in calculation. "A day," she answered confidently.
|
||
Edward nodded and smiled in satisfaction. "For certes, that is the
|
||
best news I have had this day. Our course of action shall be thus: When
|
||
Untar crosses the river, we let him do so. Further, we make no effort to
|
||
oppose his encirclement of the Old Districts. As we both shall be in
|
||
stalemate, and as we are much better provisioned for a long siege than
|
||
is Untar, we shall wait behind our defences whilst General Verde and
|
||
Knight Captain Westbrook, should she arrive after Untar crosses the
|
||
river, do spread consternation along what part of Untar's line of
|
||
communication as can be reached without undue effort. Untar's supplies
|
||
shall dwindle, he shall be forced to send more and more troops off to
|
||
protect his supplies, and we shall bleed his army as if it suffers from
|
||
the Red Plague."
|
||
He let his audience ponder and reflect on his remarks for a while.
|
||
When the expressions of thoughtful consideration gave way to fidgeting,
|
||
he asked, "Are there any that wish to pose questions?"
|
||
The Duchess of Welspeare spoke first. "I find myself mostly in
|
||
agreement with your plan, Sir Edward. I do, however, have two main
|
||
queries."
|
||
Edward bowed. "Certainly, Your Grace."
|
||
Duchess Welspeare crossed her hands in her lap and proceeded. "My
|
||
first question centres on what role you envisage for the House Troops."
|
||
Edward paused, collecting his thoughts before answering. "Since the
|
||
major portion of the House Troops are mounted, my intention was for
|
||
those mounted contingents to work closely with General Verde and her
|
||
Hussars." Edward noted the nods of approval from most of the dukes and
|
||
duchesses. The exceptions, the dukes of Oneda and Monrodya, and the
|
||
Seneschal of the Duchy of Northfield, came as no surprise. Edward also
|
||
noted that Sarah Verde, General of the Cavalry, indicated with a glance
|
||
and a nod that she was also aware of the potential sources of friction
|
||
with which she would have to deal.
|
||
"As for those Foot contingents of the House Troops, prudence would
|
||
indicate that they should work hand-in-hand with Knight Captain
|
||
Westbrook and her forces." Again nods, this time from all present.
|
||
"Does that satisfy Your Grace?" Edward inquired.
|
||
Duchess Welspeare smiled graciously. "On the first point, entirely,
|
||
Sir Edward. My second query is of a more immediate matter and concerns
|
||
the current deployment of forces in the capital, specifically the
|
||
dividing of force between Old and New Districts and whether or not such
|
||
positions are defensible."
|
||
Edward shifted his position slightly before answering Welspeare's
|
||
question. For one known for being near-impossibly stoic, it was an
|
||
indication that the immense pressures, both military and political, of
|
||
prosecuting such a large and far-flung conflict were beginning to take
|
||
their toll.
|
||
"The current disposition of our forces is not what one would name
|
||
desirable," Edward said in a monotone. "It was dictated more by the
|
||
outcome of the ill-advised attempt to meet the enemy host on the field
|
||
than by military sense. I do not believe the New Districts to be
|
||
tenable. Neither can we reinforce nor evacuate -- any attempt to do so
|
||
would surely be observed by the Beinisonians and would bring their
|
||
entire army down upon the heads of those defending the New Districts. We
|
||
might possibly succeed in getting one or two thousand out before the New
|
||
Districts fell or we might not get any out. And should we attempt to
|
||
reinforce, we would only be putting cudgels in the mob's hands."
|
||
Duchess Welspeare nodded and sat back, obviously troubled by the
|
||
Knight Commander's bleak evaluation. As well, there seemed, for just an
|
||
instant, an expression of satisfaction on Her Grace's features, almost
|
||
as if she had just scored a point in some sort of game.
|
||
"Are there any others with questions?" Edward asked, scanning the
|
||
room.
|
||
"I might question what it is we have done that God has visited this
|
||
punishment of war and invasion upon us, Sir Edward," the Duke of
|
||
Monrodya spoke, "but as to your military dispositions, regrettably, I
|
||
can find no fault. All that can be done, in good conscience and military
|
||
sense, seems to have been done."
|
||
Edward nodded in appreciation. "Since it does seem that we are all
|
||
agreed ... General Verde, concentrate your Hussars three leagues
|
||
northwest of the city and await my call." Verde nodded, stood and
|
||
saluted both Sir Edward and King Haralan, and departed with her
|
||
officers.
|
||
"Your Graces, would you, as the King's Grace gives you leave to
|
||
depart, see to the assembling of your forces northwest of the city,
|
||
there to await the arrival of General Verde and her Hussars?" The Dukes
|
||
and Duchesses all indicated their affirmation, even those
|
||
representatives of Houses opposed to the Knight Commander's policies.
|
||
Edward turned to face Commander Jan Courymwen. "Commander, see to
|
||
it that the troops are well-fed and rested. And see to it, as well,
|
||
that, if it has not already been done, all remaining foodstuffs are
|
||
brought inside the city." Jan stood, saluted, and left the chamber, the
|
||
Royal Army officers following.
|
||
Sir Edward turned last to his King. "Your Royal Majesty, if Your
|
||
Grace requires nothing further of myself or King's General Wainwright,
|
||
he and I should take further counsel."
|
||
"We should like to have King's General Wainwright remain awhile. As
|
||
for Your Graces," Haralan nodded to the assembled Dukes and Duchesses,
|
||
"We charge you, look to your troops and bury this animosity between you
|
||
and the officers of the Royal Army lest that very animosity bury
|
||
Baranur." Some nodded vigourously, others reluctantly, and a few,
|
||
defiantly. "Go then, and may Stevene smile upon us all." The nobles
|
||
stood and bowed to their King and quit the chamber.
|
||
Haralan turned to Edward and smiled. "Go, my friend. There are some
|
||
few diverse matters upon which I wish to take counsel of King's General
|
||
Wainwright. I shall not keep him overly long."
|
||
Edward bowed. "As Your Majesty desires."
|
||
Haralan watched his Knight Commander depart and then dismissed his
|
||
retinue, coming down from the dais to sit next to Wainwright. When the
|
||
two were alone, Haralan turned to the King's General of the Royal Duchy
|
||
and asked, "What do you know of the political maneouverings here in
|
||
Magnus?"
|
||
Wainwright smiled slightly. "Somewhat, Your Majesty. I try to keep
|
||
myself out of politics as much as I am able. What is it that Your
|
||
Majesty is referring to?"
|
||
Haralan sighed. "Surely you know why I gave Northfield command of
|
||
the defence of the city these few days past?"
|
||
Wainwright looked his King squarely in the eyes and said, "No, I do
|
||
not. To be honest, I have always considered Duke Northfield to be, ah,
|
||
somewhat lacking in the skills of war. His performance against the
|
||
Beinisonians proved that."
|
||
Haralan grunted, accepting the criticism. "That was well-struck and
|
||
honestly deserved. I had no choice, General Wainwright. There is a
|
||
movement afoot to replace Edward." Haralan held up a hand to forestall
|
||
Wainwright's protest. "This is a game of power, General. Northfield and
|
||
his faction see an opportunity to elevate their own man to the position
|
||
as Knight Commander, using the less-than-spectacular course of events
|
||
thus far as their justification."
|
||
"As well," Haralan continued, assuming a more comfortable position,
|
||
"there are other things, not related to the prosecution of the war, that
|
||
are at work."
|
||
Wainwright's expression grew thoughtful. "Is it because the Knight
|
||
Commander is a Galician, then?"
|
||
Haralan smiled slightly. "Partly, General, partly. In the main,
|
||
though, it is Edward's personal conduct with some, actually, one, of his
|
||
officers, that is providing further fuel for the arguments against him.
|
||
Arguments I am doing my best to ignore, but which, sooner or later, I
|
||
may be forced to listen to."
|
||
Wainwright grunted. "It is his friendship with Commander Courymwen
|
||
and the talk about the two of them."
|
||
Haralan nodded. "Yes, that is precisely the reason. I sense you are
|
||
one who supports Edward, General. That is why I am telling you these
|
||
things. With Marcellon incapacitated, there are few whom I can turn to
|
||
with trust. Those opposed to Edward continuing as Knight Commander are
|
||
close, very close, to forcing a resolution, one that goes against
|
||
Edward. Not only do I not wish that from a personal standpoint -- Edward
|
||
is perhaps my closest friend -- neither do I wish it as King."
|
||
"Why not just leave Sir Edward as Knight Commander? You *are* the
|
||
King, after all."
|
||
Haralan laughed. "Someday, when we have time, I shall explain to
|
||
you, General, that the power of a King is not as absolute as one might
|
||
wish. We do not have the time, however. We must act to save Edward and
|
||
we must act now. I have an idea that might buy some time. I am loathe to
|
||
propose it, but I can see no other alternative."
|
||
"This is what I intend to do ...."
|
||
|
||
========================================================================
|
||
|