This they learned as they hurried the lot of them down into the lowest parts of the castle.
With Kyri free it was a risk to continue releasing the prisoners, but Morgan couldn’t leave them and she wouldn’t have let him had he tried.
“We have before daylight before they discover that we’re gone,” Kyri said, “and that draws close.”
Where they were not even a trace of daylight flickered. Morgan looked at her.
She smiled, “I’m a creature of the light.”
Morgan looked at her, amazed she could smile and held her more tightly in his arms, careful of her wings and ribs, myriad bruises. He hadn’t put her down much since he’d swept her up in his arms above.
Now, though, he would have to, the channel where they needed to go was too narrow, too sloped to carry her safely.
“I’m well enough to walk, Morgan,” Kyri said, softly, “some of these aren’t.”
Hart had found his brother Richard – like him, another member of the Resistance – but like many of the others, he was half-starved, battered and beaten.
With despair Hart looked at his brother and the trip across the moat.
“How are we going to get them out of here?” Hart asked.
It was clear that many of them were too weak, too battered, to get across the moat easily, quickly or quietly.
“We need a distraction,” Caleb said.
Kyri shifted a little, leaning on Morgan’s arm, rolling her shoulders to test them, to stretch and loosen them. And smiled.
Sensing what she had in mind, Morgan wanted to refuse her. He wanted to keep her close and safe, but in the face of men who’d served with him for so long and suffered so much, he couldn’t.
Lifting her lips to his cheek, she winced a little as her ribs pulled. Her eyes met his, sparkling mischievously, though.
“Can’t you picture their faces, though, Morgan?” she asked as her grin broadened. “Haerold and his Queen?”
He could never resist her when she looked like this, gamine, impish, her eyes gleaming.
Brushing her hair back from her face, he smiled and brushed his lips across hers.
There was that, too, a kick in the teeth for what they’d done to her and to him. One more loss to Oryan’s cause.
“Are you sure?”
Her wings unfolded slowly behind her, clearly sore, but she nodded.
Then she laughed. “Yes, I think so.”
“Be careful, Kyri, I don’t want to lose you,” he said, drawing her close. “Not again.”
Lifting a hand, Kyri touched his strong handsome face, running her fingers over his square jaw.
“Never,” she said.
Ducking her head beneath the sluice gate, she looked up the wall. Giving him a swift kiss, she darted out into the growing daylight, making a face at the smell as she ran lightly through the moat. So far, no arrows. And then her wings opened, spread.
One stroke, two, another and she was sky-born.
She looped up along the far buildings and Morgan could hear the guards exclaim as she shot up into the air, aiming for open sky, her wings stroking hard. There was a clatter of arrows against stone, but they didn’t even come close. Shooting above the shadows of the city, Kyri rose above them into the sunlight. The sun touched her wings and they seemed to burst into brilliance, glittering and gleaming in the light of dawn.
“Go,” Morgan said to the others, watching Kyri as she danced in the air, swooping and diving like a lark, her body arching so every lovely curve showed clear against her thin shift, her beautiful legs trailing. Celebrating her freedom.
The men and women went as Morgan watched Kyri play in the air just out of bowshot, teasing the guards below…
There was a commotion in the castle, cries and shouts. The guards who’d been looking upward were now looking inward.
Wisely, Kyri spiraled and swooped away.
Most of the escapees rode out of the city in ones and twos, completely unremarked.
The city was abuzz with the story of the Fairy Queen’s escape.
The alarm rose, orders going out even as a wagon of hay rumbled out of the city.
After all, the guards were still looking for Morgan to come in, not to go out.
By the time the Hunters picked up the scent, they were long gone and a gentle rain was falling.
Chapter Sixty Five
Oryan waited in his tent with Gawain, John of Orland, Jordan of Dorset and Patraic of Mormont – who gave Kyri an ironic look as they entered, to her smile – Detrick, Robert and some of the others who Kyri had spoken to over the previous two weeks. It was getting crowded in that tent.
Gesturing to their companion, Morgan said, “Your Highness, King Oryan, I’d like to introduce you to Lord Rhys of Caradoc, the Ambassador from Caerdonia.”
The man bowed, clearly the worse for wear, but the better for Healing, a bath and some clothes Geoffrey had managed to scavenge for him. They weren’t quite as fine as what he was used to, but better than what Haerold had given him.
“My Lord, the Lady Kyriay had graciously allowed me to send communication to my King. He was most interested in learning where his Ambassador has been for nearly a year. While we aren’t certain how quickly they can get here, he’s sending a division of his own cavalry to assist you in regaining your rightful throne.”
A little surprised, Oryan inclined his head. “My thanks, then, to Alder.”
The ambassador nodded. “I will see he gets them. With your permission, though, I’d like to stay, to offer whatever assistance and advice might be of value.”
“Then, we’ll start by saying we speak plainly around here,” Oryan said with a smile. “You do realize the odds are against us?”
A man of slightly more than middling height, his hair gray, with sharp green eyes, the Ambassador said with a smile, “Better to die in a good cause than a bad one.”
“We’ll try not to let that happen,” Oryan said. “All right. Morgan, now that you and Kyri are back with us…?”
Giving a nod, Morgan said, “Judging by what we saw on our return and what Kyri’s people have seen, Haerold is gathering his forces and preparing to march them northwest.”
“Straight at us,” Oryan said, gesturing for them all to join him by the map table as Geoffrey came in with wine from Mormont, juices and water.
“Yes,” Morgan said. “He knows you’re up here somewhere and while that’s still quite a bit of territory, it’s not that much for a large force. It’s certainly more of a direction than he’s had in a few years. He has to stop us and soon, in a show of power, or completely lose control. He’ll start hemorrhaging people. We, though, need more time.”
“So, how do we get it?” Oryan asked.
Kyri said, “By slowing them down. My people can help with that, hit and run tactics, force them to stop and take cover. Not all of them, but certainly the forward lines, which will slow those behind them. Secondly by making things difficult for them, something Gawain and I can do. He needs a lesson in the large magics as well as small and while I can call up a storm, with his help we might be able to do it in a way that lessens the impact but spreads the effect.”
It was clear Gawain was happy to have something to contribute.
Dropping his hand on his son’s shoulder, Oryan said, “Don’t underestimate the value of inspiration Gawain, and don’t forget that once the fighting starts, you’ll be in the thick of it. In the end, it’s you and I that Haerold wants and Haerold won’t be kind to either of us. Just ask Kyri, or Morgan.”
That brought Gawain back down to earth again.
“The Marshals will be doing much the same thing. Strike and run,” Morgan said. “We found a few friends while we were in Haerold’s dungeons and they’ve got a bone to pick with him. They’ve already ridden out, on their way to gather whatever men they didn’t find here to harry Haerold’s forces.”
“How much time?”
Morgan shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, even a day or two will he
lp, while we create an army out of John, Jordan and Patraic’s levies, the rebels who will, with the Marshals, act as our cavalry, since they’re used to hit and run tactics and Kyri’s people in the air. We’ll need to drill, to get people used to taking orders to go a given way. With only one wizard, we’re going to have to find a way to offset their magic, too.”
Kyri said, “My people can help with that.”
Galan came in, a tray in his hands.
“While our feathers don’t make any difference to us,” Galan explained, “since we are inherently magical, they do serve as a protection against some magic for those who aren’t.”
“The one difficulty is that if you’re hit, we feel it, too,” Kyri said, “so please duck now and then.”
A few people chuckled.
“Most of us contributed to these, to spread out the effect and so no one of us finds ourselves featherless,” Kyri said smiling. “There’s one for each here, as you would be the most likely targets.”
“Tomorrow,” Morgan said, “we’ll start drilling, getting all these people working together, because I want to be the one who picks the ground where we fight, not Haerold. I want to be here…” Morgan tapped the map…” and ready, when Haerold gets there.”
Gawain looked at the map.
“Why there?” he asked.
Looking at the boy, Morgan said, “Here’s a lesson in tactics and strategy. If at all possible, you always want to choose the land where you fight. Look at it. It slopes down toward the direction Haerold will be coming from. When you’re actually there, it looks fairly level, but it’s not. They’ll be running uphill, tiring themselves, while we’ll be running down. This little rise here is where we must be, if we’re going to win.”
He pointed to the hills to each side. “Those will keep Haerold from being able to easily flank us and the woods there will give us a place to hide our cavalry, where they can ride downhill against Haerold’s flanks. It also concentrates Haerold’s forces into one place, which means half his fighters are ineffectual, those who are in the center. It makes their greater numbers more manageable.”
“If I were Haerold,” Oryan said, “I’d have archers behind that front line if I could and some of those long bows that were so effective against Kyri behind them.”
Kyri nodded. “The advantage we have is our arrows have to go down, how high we are and how much force they have when they hit is the only issue. We’ll be wary of that though.”
The debate began, working around the plan, adding a few things, arguing for position and advantage or disadvantage.
“Oryan, I’d like us all to ride out in the morning, to get a good look at this from the ground,” Morgan said.
Nodding, Oryan looked to Geoffrey, who went to make the necessary arrangements for horses and food.
Chapter Sixty Six
It was a fairly large party that rode out into the pale light of dawn the next morning, with a Fairy escort in the air, although Kyri herself and Galan went mounted. The sun hadn’t even cleared the horizon. A light fog drifted over the ground.
Kyri and Galan flanked Gawain, Morgan and Oryan riding ahead with the Caerdonian Ambassador .
“All right,” Kyri said. “How is your head for heights, Gawain?”
“Why?” he asked warily, eyeing her.
She grinned.
“Galan and I are going to take you for a ride,” she said. “Higher even than the chasm.”
He looked at them uncertainly. There hadn’t been much time to think then, but the chasm hadn’t been too bad and it had been over quick.
“What are you going to do?” Gawain asked.
“Show you what we see, what it looks like from up there,” Kyri said, pointing, “so you understand what happens down here.”
“How?”
“You’ll see.”
Both she and Galan dismounted and took wing, circling, her wings glinting crystalline in the sun, Galan’s tinged with gold.
Coming back around, Kyri called, “You’ve done this before, remember? Just hang on, Gawain.”
“It’s a little awkward, but actually kind of pleasant,” Morgan said, grinning.
“How would you know?” Kyri laughed, “Half the time you’ve only done it was when someone was chasing you.”
“Maybe that’s why I enjoyed it so much,” he said but sent an image of her skirts fluttering around her thighs to her.
Heat shimmered between them.
She laughed as she and Galan caught Gawain’s hands.
It was definitely awkward but impressive as they drew Gawain up with them.
Gasping at first, a bit frightened – what if a hand slipped? – and then astonished, they carried him up high enough for him to see the clouds moving over the landscape.
From above it.
The view was incredible, Gawain stared in amazement at clouds like puffy sheep drifting above the landscape below. From here it looked like a broad carpet.
“You see how the clouds move,” Kyri said, “from west to east, that’s the natural current. If you draw from the north or south, that goes against that current…. If you’re going to change the weather, always remember that what you bring here, you take from somewhere else. If you change the natural currents, then chaos reigns for a time as it tries to return to its proper flow. That can cause horrible storms. What you can do, though, is speed up the natural process. That’s good for a short time, but if you want long term, then you have to move things a bit.”
They flew down again, dropping Gawain neatly in his saddle.
Kyri circled, coming in over her strolling horse, folding her wings just in time to do the same.
“Show off,” Morgan said, smiling.
“It’s much easier when it’s not galloping,” she said with a grin and turned back to Gawain. “We want it to rain and steadily, along Haerold’s path, make the ground wet and sticky.”
“It would also help if the day itself was a little overcast and cool, people won’t tire out as quickly,” Morgan suggested.
Kyri nodded. “It’s a good time of year for it.”
“All right, Gawain,” she said quietly. “Look now at the clouds to the south. Remember how you Healed. This isn’t that different. Picture what you want to see…”
After a time, far to the south, clouds began to drift from the west and south toward the center of the plains. First one or two and then more gathered over the distant plains to the south and east. Gawain grinned as a cooler breeze blew.
He had a right to be pleased.
Kyri smiled. “Very good.”
“There it is,” Morgan said, after another few hours ride, nodding his head in the direction of the slope.
From the ridge where he intended their people to wait for Haerold’s, beyond the little rise in the center, it was like a huge, very shallow bowl tipped slightly toward the south and east.
To each side were stretches of woods, deep enough to hide their cavalry.
Oryan looked, letting out a sigh. This was where it would all end. Finally.
“It’s as good as we can make it.”
With a nod, Morgan said, “This is where I want you to stay, Oryan, sitting here where both your people and Haerold can see you.”
“Most targeted spells can’t hit you from there to here,” Kyri said. “Distance dissipates them.”
“Reassuring. And I stay how long?” Oryan asked dryly.
Morgan looked at him evenly. “Until you need to. You’ll know when to lead the final charge, or when to come in to give inspiration.”
His gaze went to Gawain. “And the same to you. You’ll know the moment.”
For the first time, Gawain felt a flicker of fear.
Morgan saw it and glanced at Oryan.
“It’s about time,” Morgan said, with relief. “I wondered how long it would take.”
Oryan said, reassuringly, “You’ll be fine, Gawain. Just fine. Anyone who isn’t afraid before battle is a fool.”
Frowning, Gawai
n glanced from his father to Morgan.
“It’s true enough,” Morgan said. “Just don’t think about it if you can. The chance is there that you could die, you just determine that you won’t.”
“All right,” Kyri said, to lighten things. “Gawain, let’s make Haerold’s life and troops miserable. See the clouds there? Concentrate on them, start moving them from the south to where Haerold is, envision them going that way.”
Drawing power from the earth, she focused it on the clouds. “Like this.”
“How come you can’t do that all the time?” Gawain asked.
Puzzled, Kyri said, “What do you mean?”
“Um…” he turned a little pink and she had an instant visual of herself in chains that made her shiver a little.
“Iron, iron and stone,” Kyri said. “It’s the only drawback Fairy have. Cold iron negates our magic. Stone will dampen it. You, however, don’t have that limitation. One of the advantages of being human and a wizard.”
“I can’t fly, though.”
She grinned. “There’s that, everything in life balances.”
Chapter Sixty Seven
Morgan drilled them all endlessly, from morning to night, getting everyone in shape and used to endless marching. An all-day battle was what he tried to prepare them for and hoped they’d survive long enough to actually achieve that.
Once darkness fell they often found themselves in Oryan’s tent, talking, rehashing the battle plans until everyone was too tired to do anything but sleep. Almost everyone. Other times found them walking singly or in odd groups or pairs, around the campfires, talking to the troops – whether John’s, Jordan’s or Patraic’s, no group was spared a visit from the King or Prince, or both, always with an escort, usually with Morgan and Kyri and their own liege lord. The soldiers were free to ask questions or talk, hunkered down around the fire. The same was true for the Marshals, rebels and the Fair.
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