The Fall of Belvedere

by B Cameron Lee

  “You walk well for a woman, almost as well as a Ranger.”

  She had no idea what a Ranger was but thanked him for the compliment. Tall as she was, she only came up to chest high on Kuiran and she was taller than any of the women she had seen in Belvedere so far.

  Before long they reached the Guard garrison and were admitted. The guards whose day it was for training were waiting for Kuiran’s arrival, standing in a loose group and as soon as they were organised the training began. Raleen observed Kuiran’s use of his staff. He could be blindingly fast when he wanted to be but slowed it all down for training purposes, attacking the guards using one end of his staff like a sword to help them parry the usual blows. He didn’t worry about the wood of his staff, steel couldn’t cut it.

  After a while Kuiran took the day’s practice from defence to attack, asking the men to make attacking blows which he parried with ease. The rhythm was developing; parry, riposte, parry, riposte. Tap, tap, tap, tap. Almost like drum beats. It seemed repetition was the key to martial arts.

  Raleen tore her eyes from the training session and looked around the expansive yard. It was on the second traverse she spotted the man, dressed in grubby civilian clothes, leaning against the far eastern wall of the compound. It was in shadow at this hour of the morning. He seemed interested in all that was going on and kept his eyes mostly on Kuiran. Raleen was suspicious of him and asked one of the guards waiting to spar with Kuiran to take her on a quick tour of inspection. The guard was at the back of the line, having just had his workout with the young giant and was only too happy to oblige. Raleen followed the Guard around, listening as he explained the functions of various buildings while surreptitiously keeping her eye on the man still leaning against the rough stone wall. At one stage they passed within a short distance of the grinning figure but the guard payed him no heed. When they entered the stables Raleen asked her guide.

  “Did you see the man in civilian clothes leaning on the wall back there?”

  “What man?” the Guard replied.

  That clinched it for Raleen, she immediately asked the Guard to take her back to the practice area. When they exited the stables, the scruffy man was no longer leaning against the wall where she had seen him last. Sudden worry gripped Raleen and she hurried back to where Kuiran was training the Guards. Just as she reached the circle of men she saw the suspicious character advancing on Kuiran from the rear, long knife clutched in hand, readying to strike a fatal blow.

  Raleen was too far away to intervene.

  Screaming a warning and without thought, Raleen flung up her hand, her only desire to protect Kuiran from the attacker. What happened next stunned everyone, including herself. Suddenly, in their midst, some of the Guards were bowled over by something unseen and Kuiran was rocked to one side before a loud bone crunching thud sounded from the wall behind them.

  To all those observing, a man with a wicked looking longknife suddenly materialised out of thin air and slid sideways down the wall, leaving a smear of blood and brains above. His head had been smashed in as he’d forcibly hit the wall. The scruffy man lay there unmoving as Raleen looked at her hand in amazement, then at Kuiran, who looked from the body first then over to her, a slow smile coming to his handsome features. The guards were stunned and only one of them thought to check the man on the ground, kicking the knife away before checking for a pulse.

  The Guard straightened up from checking the body.

  “Dead as a maggot. His head’s all caved in. Where did he come from?”

  He looked uncertainly over toward Raleen. By then Kuiran had moved to stand beside her. She was still staring at her hand in disbelief.

  “Interesting stuff the Tsalk blood, is it not. I owe you my life.”

  He took her hand and stroked it gently before kissing the back of it. Raleen thrilled at the touch of his lips.

  “Is that the only one?” Kuiran asked.

  She nodded dumbly and began visibly shaking, a reaction to the chain of events resulting in a man’s death. Kuiran turned to the guards standing about.

  “Take the body and bury it after you’ve searched it then carry on with your training. Your lives may depend on your abilities sooner than you think.”

  Turning, he easily picked up the weakened and shaking Raleen as though she weighed nothing and tenderly carried her all the way back to Cristal’s mansion. There he made Raleen comfortable and ordered tea for her before going in search of Cristal to report both the discovery and the demise of another spy.

  Kuiran found the old lady busy in the study with Lareeta, poring over maps and reports, so he quickly related the events at the City Guard compound to them both.

  “So, she has the ability to move objects and never knew it. Her talents are coming out far faster than mine ever did. Must be the change of environment. I’ve heard emotion is a good stimulus too. She must care for you Kuiran, to summon so much so quickly.”

  The big man blushed, colour rising quickly to his cheeks.

  “It’s all right to care for someone or have them care for you. It doesn’t mean you have to court her you know.”

  Cristal winked at Lareeta.

  “I wonder what else she’s capable of. Let her rest for now, talk to her if you wish Kuiran, it may settle her down. She’s going to be tired for a while. Head first into a wall eh.”

  Kuiran left them to their maps and went back to comfort Raleen. He sat and shared tea with her and swapped tales of growing up before she had to go to her room and rest, bone weary.

  Kuiran enjoyed talking with Raleen.

  Down at the waterfront, Arwhon and Sihron’del strolled hand in hand, sharing some peaceful time together, enjoying the sea air on a balmy autumn day. The sun shone warmly, reflecting from thousands of tiny ripples in the somewhat dirty water of the harbour, adding to the brightness of the day. Any onlookers would have seen a plain man in a shirt and cloak holding hands with a young girl. Father and daughter most likely. Certainly not anything unusual and surely nothing to arouse interest.

  Shiri had not detected any signs of men or women with a cloaking glamour as they’d walked down through the city, so Arwhon decided to go and take a look at the harbour which had appeared so vividly in his visions at the pool of the Wise Ones.

  Arwhon gazed along the quiet wharf and past its end, to where the Wandering River crept southward past Belvedere’s eastern wall and emptied into the large harbour. Whoever had built the city had formed the harbour by building a sea wall on the western side of the bay, using a jutting spit of land which already formed a natural haven at the head of Moreland Bay. The sea wall was built high and defensible, with a redoubt at its far end which also doubled as a lighthouse for late arriving ships. The far side of the harbour was plain shoreline with a few fishermen’s shacks dotted here and there.

  The entrance to the harbour itself was fairly narrow and relied on tide and the rivers flow to keep it deep enough for the shipping which used it. At this time of the year though, the light rain and slow river flow resulted in a shallow bar being formed from silt brought down the river, leaving only a narrow channel for vessels to navigate.

  Probably why most ships departed on the high tide.

  The long lines of quays, stretching into the water, were nearly all empty. Trade with Cheshwon, sparse as it was, had ground to a standstill lately, as it had with most other coastal traders. Only a few ships were passing between Myseline and Southland, loaded with the much needed grain from Myseline’s harvest. It had been an early bumper crop and the farmers over there were keen to sell the excess. Small shipments of finished goods, silk garments and the like went back to Myseline with payment for the grain. A few cargo handlers were idly sitting on the quays fishing for tiddlers but otherwise all was peaceful.

  It was hard to relate this scene to the one seen above the Wise One’s pool but Arwhon imagined the hundred or so red sails converging on the harbour entrance and the horror they could unleash on the city. There had to be some way to defend Belvede
re. He stood, with Shiri beside him, studying the peaceful harbour, trying to work out some plan. He felt a slight thrumming in his head and that mild headache, something he’d put down to nearly drowning, started again.

  A glimmer of an idea flickered into being and he glanced over his shoulder to the warehouses. Was it possible? Approaching the open doorway of one of them, he looked inside to see what was being kept in there and was gratified to discover barrel upon barrel of lamp oil, stored near the back of the building in neat stacks. A plan started to hatch in his head.

  Before she had come to Belvedere, Shiri had seen no seas other than that of the Rift. This one was totally different. Moreland Bay’s waters were turquoise blue not grey, and smooth and placid in the sunshine although she could imagine it angry. It felt strange standing beside so much water wearing armour. The only place she could feel the gentle breeze was on her face and hands but Arwhon had insisted she don it, even under the cloaking glamour. The armour was not hot to wear, even in direct sunlight and it was starting to feel like a second skin to her. She could now appreciate how beetles felt. Shiri collected herself.

  “Shall we go back? I love being here with you but as there’s a Council meeting later, the evening meal is being served earlier tonight.”

  Arwhon agreed, although he too was loathe to tear himself away from Belvedere’s peaceful harbour but they had work to do and a longish walk home.

  They didn’t hurry.

  Strolling up the streets of the lower city, they happened to meet Chalc, also on his way back to the mansion, covered with grime again but with a happy expression on his face.

  “Done it. I’ve managed to train a few of that motley crew in the techniques of casting simple swords and they produced five of their own today. Big Sam can show the others when the second forge is started up and they should be able to make a dozen or so swords daily. It won’t be enough for their needs by any stretch of the imagination but at least there will be more armed men to protect the City if it comes to hand to hand fighting in the streets. Some of those so-called criminals are actually quite decent fellows when you get to know them but I’m glad to say I’m finally finished with that task.”

  “Excellent work Chalc. Your contribution may well be the deciding factor in the outcome of the war. Who knows?”

  Arwhon clapped him on the shoulder.

  “You can rest tonight while Cristal, Lareeta, Shiri and I go to this Council meeting.”

  Nine of the Council of Ten were already at the Council Chambers, mingling in the foyer, as well as Jorgen de Frie, the Commander-in-Chief of the Army, back from his tour of inspection of the border areas between Southland and Graswyn. He’d observed the increased enemy activity himself and was growing uncertain about developments. He even considered consulting shy Trelin, wife of the previous Commander, as he knew she was a good tactician and had often provided covert practical advice to her husband. Jorgen finally decided to act and taking his drink with him, casually wandered over to where Trelin was standing alone and struck up a conversation.

  Trelin was initially timid at being approached but once they got talking about tactics, she relaxed and he was amazed at her perspicacity. In the space of a few minutes he’d picked up quite a few good pointers, so swallowing his pride, he asked if he might call on her sometimes, especially when he needed fresh ideas. She smiled demurely and lowering her eyes, replied in the affirmative before moving off to talk to another Council member.

  They parted on friendly terms.

  Watching her walk away, Jorgen wiped his brow with his handkerchief. What a relief, he had help. No one realised how lonely it was being Commander-in-Chief. As far as he was concerned, Trelin could keep her seat on the Council and to hell with his own society dependent wife.

  Just before the time Council was due to sit, Cristal, her bodyguard the Barsoomi woman and Cristal’s grandson Arwhon with the child Shiri in tow, entered the outer rooms of the Council building. Heads swung to inspect these guests of Cristal, a rather common looking young fellow accompanied by a girl, who supposedly had new information to impart.

  They filed into the Council Chambers and took their seats, the special guests sitting behind Cristal on spare chairs specially provided for the occasion. Arwhon was worried about what he was going to say. He only had a few ideas in mind, certainly not enough to sway the Council one way or the other. Jahron’dal had given him some background but it wasn’t the whole story and he didn’t really know what Empress Martine was up to.

  Tactics, something he had never given much thought to before.

  Old Baldin banged his gavel and there was silence in the room.

  “What now Cristal?” Old Baldin asked peevishly. Arwhon heard, I am getting sick of this woman trying to run things.

  Cristal drew herself up and held her head high.

  “I have new information for the Council. We’ve discovered spies in town, cloaked in spells of invisibility. I’m not going to reveal how we found them, just that we did. They’ve been routed now.”

  Council members murmured among themselves until Willem spoke.

  “Sounds a likely story. Did you make it up to scare us?” How did she find out!

  “No Willem, I accidentally bumped into one and Lareeta pacified him. We learned a little from him until whoever was controlling the spell killed him.” Raleen spotted him but you don’t need to know that, the Ring translated.

  Duke Dalvan joined in.

  “There was some funny business over at the City Guard’s barracks now you come to mention it. You mean we’ve all been under observation lately? How long do you think?”

  “No idea Duke, it could be over a fortnight. The man did mention being recruited recently.”

  Merdon spoke quietly.

  “Some of the Guild have been also been approached and offered good money to spy.” But we took care of those who accepted.

  Kirta snorted.

  “I don’t ‘old no truck with them sneaky bastards. Kill em all I say.”

  “All those who accepted the offer will never live to spend the money.”

  Merdon’s simple, quiet reply stunned those in attendance. Everyone took a closer look at him. So matter-of-fact but he represented a tightly run Guild.

  “Well I think this spying thing is being blown out of all proportion.” Willem offered. Got to calm them down, we don’t have many informants left.

  “One thing’s for sure,” Cradon offered. “There can’t be any information going out east by ship ‘cos nothing is sailing that way.”

  “I know, I’m financially ruined by this lack of trade,” Bertran whined. Apart from a warehouse full of silk which will soon be worth a small fortune.

  Cristal spoke again.

  “The spying is not my main point. You may know my nephew, Arwhon, who rescued the Barsoomi heirs from Empress Martine’s clutches. He’s been travelling the country since the rescue and has some new information to offer. Please don’t ask him to reveal his sources as it could be detrimental to someone’s health.” He’s actually been stuck in a Tree and consulting M’Herindar Wise Ones but you pompous asses don’t need to know that.

  “You expect us to believe him?” Willem asked her. By the Gods, I hope he hasn’t found out too much.

  The Ring on Arwhon’s finger was glowing bright red now but he realised only his eyes could see it. So, Willem was a traitor. Cristal must be informed as soon as possible.

  It was Arwhon’s turn to speak and he stood, anxious about what he was going to say. Suddenly the room seemed to tilt and he swayed slightly getting to his feet as colours flashed in his mind like fireflies in the Darkwood. The strange feeling left as quickly as it had come and a sense of calm came over Arwhon, along with the annoying little ache at his temple. He now knew exactly what he was going to say and could see Martine’s plans arrayed in his mind as clear as day.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen: I believe Belvedere’s walls will come under attack within a month. It’s imperative any crops, even near
to ripe, be harvested as soon as possible and the rest burned as they will only provide food for Empress Martine’s armies. The farmers on the border of Graswyn should set out for Belvedere with their families and all their livestock as soon as possible. Their lives are in danger. Martine intends to kill all the farming community to depopulate the land, so she can fill it with her own farmers.”

  Arwhon paused to regard the Councillors around the table.

  “Belvedere’s walls will be attacked. I suggest the cavalry stay outside of Belvedere, camped in the forests to the west so they can harry Martine’s forces in small mobile groups from horseback. Otherwise you will have over a thousand horses inside the city walls without the fodder for them. That’s not all. Martine has aligned with Draakonia and the Draakon Reavers are going to attack the harbour while the walls are being defended.”

  “Absolute twaddle!” Willem roared. How does he know all this? The plans were made in secret. There must be a traitor in the Empresses retinue.

  “Not twaddle Sir, I have my sources.”

  “Are you positive about the Draakon Reavers Arwhon?” Cradon interjected.

  “As positive as I can be. I believe it’s a distinct possibility Master..?”

  “Cradon. I run ships, lots of them. The harbour is virtually defenceless.”

  “Not if you sink a few big ships on the bar. The river is not running very fast at the moment and I saw a sandbar in the harbour entrance which has narrowed the channel. I also happened to see a good many barrels of lamp oil in one of the warehouses down at the docks. It burns while it floats on water doesn’t it?”