by David Debord
Rayburn nodded, but the others exchanged uncomfortable looks. Larris’ heart sank. He knew how this conversation was about to go. He had already had the same discussion with his mother. Determined not to make it easy for them he waited.
“If you will forgive me, Highness, we have discussed this at length,” Mazier said.
“We have?” Larris interrupted, emphasizing the word ‘we.' “Please refresh my memory as I do not recall having had this discussion with anyone in this room.”
“Nor do I.” Rayburn scowled at Mazier.
Mazier could not suppress the frown that flashed across his face, but he was quickly all smiles again. “I should have made myself clear. Some of us,” he glanced from Orman to Jowan, “have had occasion to discuss our current situation. It was not our intention to leave you out of the discussion. We merely found ourselves in the same place at the same time and naturally this is a subject which concerns us greatly. So...” He turned his palms up and shrugged.
“And what fruit was born from this accidental conversation?” Larris hoped he did not sound as sardonic as he felt. Right now, he needed the support of the Regis or at least a majority of it.
“We agree that your brother is still alive,” Jowan began, “and is, therefore, the rightful king. We further agree that someone should serve as regent until he returns.” He paused and glanced at Mazier, who nodded. “It is our opinion that appointing you in that capacity could fracture the kingdom.”
“What do you mean?”
“We do not know how long it will take to find Lerryn.” Jowan’s brow furrowed. “His prolonged absence has not gone unnoticed. Some believe he is dead while others consider him unfit to rule. If you step in as regent, many will begin to think of you as the true king while others would see you as a usurper. This could cause division, and perhaps rebellion.”
“Further rebellion, you mean,” Hugo interjected
“True. We cannot ignore our current situation.” The high priest gave Larris an apologetic smile. “I do hope you understand. This is an uncomfortable conversation and I do not wish you to think we do not value your input. We rejoice that you have returned to us.”
Doubtful, Larris thought.
“Who do you suggest should serve until Prince Lerryn is found?” Edwin asked. His furrowed brow suggested that he too had been excluded from the machinations and was not happy about it.
“We believe that Lord Orman is best suited to serve. His Grace is not in the direct line of succession but is part of the royal family. The court knows and trusts him.” Mazier looked around the table as if challenging anyone to contradict him.
Orman sat looking down at his hands. Finally, he looked up. “I will reluctantly accept this position, but only if I have the support of the Regis.”
Larris fought the sudden urge to roll his eyes. Orman knew he could not serve without this group’s blessing. His humble words were merely for show.
“Is there any further discussion on the subject?” Mazier asked.
“I support Prince Larris,” Rayburn said, “but I will accede to the wishes of the Regis. We should be united now more than ever.”
Larris’ heart fell. His only hope had been for Hugo, Edwin, and Rayburn to come down on his side, thus splitting the vote.
“My sentiments exactly,” Edwin said. “But I hope that, in the future, we will keep our conversations about such important matters inside the council chamber.” He cast a meaningful look at Mazier, who gave a single nod.
After that, the result was a foregone conclusion. The Regis voted by acclamation to make Orman the new regent. Larris surrendered the seat at the head of the table to his uncle and sat down alongside Rayburn, who gave him an apologetic smile before turning his attention to Orman.
“Now,” Orman began, “as my nephew correctly pointed out, we should discuss the status of the war efforts.” He turned to Hugo.
“We are struggling” Hugo said. “I won’t deny it. Kyrin continues to push us back along the border. We are giving ground slowly, but giving ground all the same.
Orman frowned. “My sources tell me otherwise. It is my understanding that the front has stabilized.”
“As I said, we are giving ground slowly, but I would hardly say the front has stabilized.” Hugo paused, waiting for a reply. When none came, he continued. “The situation in the south is difficult to assess. We have not managed to get a single spy into the lands controlled by Karst. Rather, not a single spy we sent in has returned. For that reason, there is very little we can say for certain about the situation. We know that he now controls the entirety of the former Duchy of Kurnsbur.”
“It is not a former duchy,” Orman said. “It is and will always be a part of Galdora. The rebellion does not change that fact.”
“You are correct, of course.” Hugo made a small nod in Orman’s direction, which Larris’ uncle returned with a smile. “Karst also controls a large portion of Eastern Lothan. The Malgog seem to have given up without a fight. They appear to have abandoned that part of their kingdom.”
“Their civil war has moved east,” Mazier said. “The bulk of their forces now lay siege to Karkwall.”
“They’ll destroy themselves soon enough.” Rayburn shook his head.
“Don’t be so certain,” Larris said softly
“The ambassador from Diyonus is here at the castle,” Mazier said. “He is, needless to say, concerned about our situation, but he was reluctant to discuss the situation on his nation’s border. What, if anything, can you tell us about that?”
“Nothing definite. As far as we know, Karst has not attempted to cross the border into Diyonus, but every sortie by the Diyonan army has been crushed.”
“How can that be?” Jowan asked. “A collection of rebels and stray Lothans against a trained army? I think that demonstrates the value of gossip.”
“We hear the same story from every source.” A note of defensiveness crept into Hugo’s voice. “I cannot speak to the size or strength of Karst’s forces, but it is clear that they are much stronger than we anticipated.”
“That settles it.” Orman rubbed his hands together. “Our first priority is to make our kingdom whole once again.” His eyes locked on Hugo. “A significant number of soldiers have just completed their training, have they not?”
Hugo nodded. “A full legion and two cavalry units.”
“Excellent. That should be more than enough to smash this rebellion in Kurnsbur. Once that has been accomplished, we may turn our full attention to the Kyrinian front.”
“But my Lord, these are green troops. They have never seen battle.” Hugo looked shocked
“And what better way to bloody them then against a collection of rabble? Better they cut their teeth in Kurnsbur than against Kyrinian regulars.”
“We should mix them in with veteran troops,” Hugo stammered. “One does not send such an inexperienced force into battle as a single unit. It simply isn’t done.”
“Good. Karst will not expect it.” He turned to Rayburn. “I will need you to cull the ranks of the city guard of all veterans who are of fighting age. Send them to the Academy for induction.”
“My Lord?” Rayburn gaped at Orman. “What few men I have who fit that description have all completed their terms of service and chosen to leave the army. They have wives and children.”
“A life of leisure is not a luxury Galdora can afford during a time of war. They will serve or they will hang. Am I understood?”
“Yes, my Lord, but you will leave my guard woefully depleted.”
“If we do not win this war, there will be no city for you to guard.”
Hugo cleared his throat. “We have no experienced commanders in the city at this time. I shall have to send word to the front before you can take the troops to Kurnsbur.”
“Nonsense,” Orman said. “I shall command them myself.”
Silence reigned around the table. Larris found himself at a loss for words. This was an unexpected turn of events to say the le
ast. Just as his uncle had seized power, he was going to leave the city? What was his game? He glanced at Jowan, who, alone among the members of the Regis, appeared unsurprised. Was it Orman’s plan to strip Archstone of its defenses and leave it in so vulnerable a position that the temple could step in and seize power? But why? It made no sense.
“Uncle,” he began, “you are needed here. We have just named you regent. How will it stabilize the kingdom for you to leave immediately, taking all our troops with you?”
Orman dismissed Larris’ question with the wave of his hand. “I will still be regent. The Regis can rule in my stead. Mazier will chair the meetings and Carsus will sit in my place.”
Larris grimaced at the thought of his cousin taking up any sort of a position of authority, but there was nothing he could do about it. “I don’t like it. The idea of you leaving...”
“Please tell me you, of all people, are not about to chastise me for leaving the kingdom in its hour of need.”
Larris felt his cheeks go red. As much as he hated to admit it, his uncle was correct. Both he and Lerryn had done that very thing and not too long ago. What could he say about it?
Taking his silence for acquiescence, Orman rose. “I believe that ends our business for today. Commander Rayburn, I will expect those men in the morning. I plan to leave within the week.” He immediately turned on his heel and strode out of the room.
Larris, Rayburn, and Edwin exchanged glances. Larris sensed he at least had two allies, but what could they do? He needed to understand his uncle’s plan, whatever that was.
He hurried back to his quarters and sent for Allyn, who arrived in short order.
“There is something you need to know,” Allyn said as soon as the guard closed the door.
“What is that?”
I intercepted a message to Orman from the temple.”
“How did you manage that?” Larris asked
Allyn shrugged. “I followed the messenger and knocked him out before he reached the palace. I lifted his purse so he’ll think he was robbed.” He handed Larris a small sheet of parchment.
The message was brief.
Do not fret. Karst says the time is at hand.
Chapter 29
Shanis closed her eyes and breathed in the silence. No more pounding of siege engines. No more battle cries. For a few hours, all was still.
Inside the command tent, the clan chiefs awaited her. Most still disagreed with her decision to break off the attack for the night, seeing it as a sign of weakness on her part. She still contended that the people of Karkwall were not the enemy, and she wanted to keep as many of them alive as possible until Orbrad was removed from power. And if her plan worked, that would happen tonight.
Ordering Gillen and Granlor to wait outside, she stepped inside the tent. Heztus followed behind her.
The tent was poorly lit and the air thick with smoke and sweat. A small part of her wanted to order them all to bathe, and she smiled at the thought.
“What were our losses?” she asked, settling down at her place in the circle.
“Minimal,” said Krion. “Most of the defenders broke and ran when the wall went down, so there was little resistance.”
“Good. Now that we have our way in, we can put a stop to this in short order.”
Krion frowned. “What do you mean we have our way in?”
“We control the outer wall. That means,” she looked at Horgris, “we also control the tunnel through which my friends and I escaped the city.”
Everyone turned to Horgris.
“What is she talking about?” Krion asked sharply.
Horgris sighed and explained how he and other members of the Order of the Fox had helped Shanis and her companions escape from Orbrad’s dungeon. “I do know where the gate is, but I do not know the way through the tunnels.”
“Martrin does,” Shanis said. “Is he still on our side?”
“I believe so, but we can no reach him,” Horgris replied. “He do be close to Orbrad. It be risky to try and communicate with him.”
“We have to assume that the tunnels will be guarded,” Culmatan said, scratching his beard. “But the idea do be worth exploring. We should send in some men to scout it out.”
“I’ve already done that,” Shanis said. “Many are still exploring, but those who have reported back say the tunnels are lightly guarded. We should be able to get men into the inner keep and open the gates without me blasting them apart. Orbrad would have to surrender.”
“It could work, but it could also be a death trap,” Labar, chieftain of the Mud Snake clan, said.
The chieftains debated the plan for some time, finally agreeing to wait until all the scouts returned before sending in a small group of armed guards.
“All right,” Shanis said, rising to her feet. “I’m going to get some rest. Send Heztus to get me when you’re ready to send men into the city.”
The chieftains stood and bowed respectfully as she departed. Outside, she quickened her pace, forcing Granlor and Gillen to hurry along in order to keep pace. As soon as she was out of sight of the meeting tent, she changed directions and headed out of the camp.
“Wait!” Granlor had the good sense to keep his voice down. He and Gillen ran to catch up with her.
“What are you doing?” Gillen asked.
“I’m not waiting for any scouts,” Shanis said. “I’m putting an end to this tonight.”
Chapter 30
“This pass would make for an excellent ambush site.” Lerryn gazed down at the narrow pass, mentally placing his troops and planning his strategy. They would hit hard and run fast. As long as they didn’t get caught up in hand-to-hand fighting, they should be able to bloody the Kyrinians and get away safely.
It galled him to have to resort to such a strategy. He wanted to stand and fight, but he knew that if he did, his ragtag forces would be crushed.
His forces. The very thought made him grin ruefully. How had he come to this? After the battle of Galsbur he’d set off on his own without a plan, save to somehow atone for the poor choices he’d made. Soon he’d found himself waging a one-man war against the bandits, mostly deserters from the Galdoran and Kyrinian armies, who marauded across the countryside.
And then he’d met Kelvin. Against his better judgment, he’d permitted the young man to join him. From that point on it seemed he could not go anywhere without gaining followers. The single pebble had started an avalanche.
Now he led a respectable force. Most of them were farmers who had lost their homes and families and whose desire for vengeance outstripped their fighting skills, but the lot was far from hopeless. Many of the men were skilled hunters and he’d put their archery skills to use. He’d also collected a number of veterans who had stepped in as officers, training up his makeshift army.
Soon they’d scoured the western lands of bandits and were now working their way east. As they journeyed, they’d continued to gather volunteers, but also some regulars— men who had become separated from their units, or sometimes the remnants of units that had been decimated. Now he finally had a force that could, if not stand toe-to-toe with a Kyrinian unit of similar size, at least acquit themselves well in a fight, particularly if Lerryn chose the ground and fought on his terms.
“Do we have enough to defeat them?” Kelvin asked. “We’ve doubled in size over the last two weeks.”
“Of course not. We can only hope to slow them down until the Galdoran reinforcements arrive.”
“Reinforcements of which there is still no sign.” Kelvin didn’t know Lerryn was or had been, First Prince of Galdora, and Lerryn wondered if the knowledge would change how the young man spoke to him. Probably not.
“They will come. They have to.” Lerryn tried to picture the geography of the region. This pass and the river beyond were the only natural barriers before the invaders would hit rolling, open farmland and have a clear path to Archstone. It was critical that they do what they could to slow these invaders and whittle down their
numbers.
“But the soldiers who have joined us...”
“Are soldiers, and thus not privy to the decisions of kings and generals. Archstone will send out forces to meet this threat.” Privately, he wondered if that were true. He hadn’t a shred of evidence that his father was even aware of this invading force, much less that he was sending troops.
Kelvin grimaced but acquiesced. “Max is coming.”
Max was one of the veterans who had joined them. A skilled cavalryman, he led the unit that had dubbed itself the White Fang, named after Lerryn’s elite squad, all of whom had died in defense of Galsbur. He had considered asking them to choose another name but decided it wasn’t worth the bother.
Max halted a few paces away and made a perfunctory bow. “There is someone here to see you, my Lord.”
“You know what to do. Assign him to a squad, give him bread and a spear, and hope to the gods he knows how to use the latter.”
“Begging your pardon, but he says he is here to see Lerryn, First Prince of Galdora.”
Lerryn tensed, his heart drumming in his chest. “Then he is in the wrong place.”
Max shrugged. “He described you perfect-like. Says you’ll know his name. It’s Tabars.”
Despite his annoyance at his identity finally being revealed, Lerryn’s heart leaped. Tabars was alive!
“Send him to me.”
Max peered at him through narrowed eyes. “So it’s true, then?”
Lerryn nodded. “I was First Prince. Not anymore.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Kelvin gaping at him.
“In that case, I hope you’ll forgive us for treating you like one of us. We didn’t know.”
“I didn’t want you to know, and it was a welcome change to be treated like what I am— just a simple soldier.”
“You’re far more than that.” Max bowed again, this time deeply, and hurried away, returning in short order not only with Tabars, but also with Colin Malan, Edrin, Hair, and Hierm Van Derin.
