Quest of the Wizardess

by Guy Antibes

  “Your name.”

  “Bellia of Greenwell, your Majesty.”

  “Greenwell. I know Greenwell. Let me see your short sword or long knife, whatever it is, while we are entertained.” The King nodded to one of his staff.

  A small band shuffled into the space in front of the U-shaped banquet tables. Pulling out instruments of various kinds, they began to play. A woman dressed in the local costume of ruffled sleeves and a full colorful stripped dress stepped forward and bowed deeply and graciously to the King and then started to sing.

  The King listened to a verse of the song and then nodded his appreciation as she continued to sing.

  He leaned over to Bellia. “The blade.”

  Bellia gave him the blade in its scabbard. “Careful, your majesty the edge is very, very sharp.”

  King Rollack slipped the blade out and looked at the waves in the steel. “This looks like a circle square blade. I’ve never seen this mark before? Where did you come by this?”

  “I made it. I was an apprentice to Pock, the Greenwell blacksmith.”

  “The girl apprentice who ran away?” King Rollack laughed. “His daughter was too much for you, eh?”

  “It was his niece, but how did you know?” Bellia felt her face heat. This was the King knowing of her escape. “I’m just a lowly apprentice, your Majesty,” she said lowering her head.

  “I had to send Yesso over there to talk Pock into making more swords. We thought there was another supplier who could duplicate them more cheaply, but those swords failed. So what prompted you to make this?”

  “Your men brought a saber for us to make. I liked the curve, but the weight was all in the blade. So I made it thinner and smaller so I could move it easily through the air. The longer hilt is for better balance. I am an infantryman and have no need to slash down from a horse.”

  King Rollack took a napkin and slid it across the edge. His eyes widened as it parted where it touched the edge.

  “By the gods! It is sharp. I was about to run my finger down the blade. I wear a circle square blade myself, but I think I would like one of these. Have you forgotten all Pock taught you?”

  “No, your majesty. I came into the army as a metalworker to mend and sharpen weapons.”

  “You have my leave to make me a blade just like this. I’ll have my own men fashion a hilt and scabbard, although it appears your work is at a level close to your master’s. Quite an accomplishment for a youth— and a woman, too.”

  Or so, thought Bellia. She could use her own sword as a pattern. It would make the process a bit easier, she thought. The King was talking while Bellia thought.

  “I beg your pardon, your majesty. My mind was already solving issues about the sword.”

  “No matter. I have a book that talks about innovations in war. I don’t remember any word about thin short swords.”

  “A book from the Blind God?” Bellia knew she shouldn’t have said it. She cursed himself.

  “What do you know about the Blind God and the books his monks have brought me?” Bellia sensed the full attention of the King and those close to him.

  She cleared his throat. “I met a monk of the Blind God. He told me about a book the King had, your majesty.” She looked at the King, afraid he would show anger at her impertinence.

  “Did he give you anything?”

  “A token, sire. A coin with the temple on one side and an image of the Blind God on the other.”

  The King relaxed. “You speak the truth.” King Rollack nodded his head a few times. “I have a brass token from the monks. Hold onto it, soldier. The monks will help you in any way they can.”

  It was Bellia’s turn to nod. “I will, your majesty.” The King sheathed the long knife and gave it back to Bellia.

  A string of men brought platters of food into the tent. Astun passed the King’s table and winked at Bellia as he served her.

  “Where did you learn to fight?” The officer seated next to Bellia startled him with the question.

  “Mostly from my partner, sir.”

  “You bested her rather easily, this afternoon.” The man took out his knife and carved himself a large slice of turkey breast. “Can I cut you some? Your short sword is not for cutting fowl.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Your name is Bellia? Did I hear right?” The man chewed off a chunk of the white meat. “I am General Bowston,” the man said with his mouth full.

  Bellia could only nod. She wondered if her head would fall off from all the nodding she did as the General talked to her.

  “So?”

  “Pardon, sir?”

  “Let me hear how you fought her.” The General pointed his head towards Menna.

  “She loses control, sometimes. I’ve never been to war, maybe it’s the battle rage I’ve heard about. We both have Pock swords, so one of us could get injured. It’s not so bad when we are sword and shield, but sword-knife sparing can be really dangerous. I guess being in front of all of you went to her head. She started to press and I had to put an end to it. I’m familiar with her downward slash, so I had to get the knife out of her hands so I could slip behind and make her yield.”

  “I loved it when you drew the back of your short sword across her neck. How’d she take it?”

  “We’re tent-mates. She took it just fine. We practice together. It’s not the first time, but it was the worst time, sir.”

  Bellia continued to eat, oblivious to the taste of the King’s food and deaf to the entertainment.

  ~

  The forges were fired up. The army intended to stay for a time in the camp. Bellia was released from her daily training to make the King’s short sword. She had always had thought of the blade as a long knife, but if King Rollack and General Bowston called it a short sword, a short sword it would be.

  King Rollack assigned an assistant to Bellia, however, this time no one would see her fold the steel. Three days later, the blade was complete. Bellia gave the assistant instructions on hollowing the edge and tips on balancing the blade. He would finish the windings for the grip and the sheath to match King Rollack’s sword.

  “I’m glad that’s done,” Bellia said as she laid down on her bedroll. She sighed. “My personal duty to King Rollack is now complete. I can be an ordinary soldier again.”

  Menna looked over to his friend. “I see you haven’t heard.”

  “How could I have heard anything, I’ve been over at the forges from morning to night. What’s happened?” Bellia put her hand over her eyes. She was ready to sleep.

  “We won’t get our Blue Scorpion shield after all.”

  Bellia sat up. “What? We were invited to the banquet.”

  Menna nodded. “We are now the King’s Swords. The man himself will present us with new uniforms and shields of his own design.”

  “Ach. We’ll still be the Blue Scorpions, whatever the King says.”

  “Except our pay doubles.” Bellia heard Menna rubbing her hands in the dark.

  “Are our duties any different?” Bellia knew they would be.

  “Ah. Yes we will be stationed before the King in the field and members of the vanguard in a siege.”

  “That’s nice. Safe in battle and risking death in a siege. Maybe that evens things out?”

  “We’ll see.” Menna said. A moment later, Bellia heard her friend’s snores.

  ~~~

  Chapter Seven

  Bellia’s First Battle

  ~

  Horns blared, as the King’s Swords assembled just below the brow of the hill where the King Rollack sat on camp chairs with his staff. Men tended the General Staff’s horses on the other side of the hill.

  “At least we’ll get a good view of the battle.” Menna said. Bellia nearly tasted the bitterness of her words.

  “Maybe if things look to be going our way the King will let us bloody our swords,” Bellia countered. “I’d rather not spend the war standing so far away.” She said the words, but didn’t really mean them. She shook insi
de at the prospect of actually fighting for her life.

  Below them, through the dust, the forces of South Wansua advanced on the King’s forces. The First Army arrayed itself in diamonds with the point towards the flat South Wansua front. The Second Army did the same. In the center, elements of both armies formed into triangles of fifty men each.

  “I have to admit it’s pretty from up here. It looks like the South Wansuans are advancing all together. We’ll trounce them,” their sergeant said to nobody in particular.

  More horns blared. The women barely heard the battle horns of the South, but the dust started to rise from their lines as the enemy advanced.

  Vast launches of arrows rose up from both sides, but the crossbows lacked range and punch when shot up in the air to arc back to the earth.

  The line stopped. Bellia could hear the din of the men from the South slapping their swords against their shields. From both flanks, columns of cavalry, four men wide rode towards the center.

  King Rollack didn’t involve his cavalry in the front lines. When the South Wansuans lined up, their cavalry turned as one and began to charge.

  “Look at our pikes go down,” Bellia said. She winced as horses and men fell and the animals impaled themselves on the long poles. Men with short spears ran through lines of pikes and thrust their weapons into man and horse alike. She thought of Astun’s training. He could fight as well as any of the men down there, now.

  Within minutes the South Wansuan cavalry retreated, half of it’s original size. The battle horns blared on the King’s side as the entire Army backed up fifteen paces, leaving dead horses and men lining the front. The dead and dying presented a low barrier of spent flesh.

  Bellia sensed the tension in the air as their cavalry split and rode off the field. General Bowston raised a red flag. Bellia could see a line of red flags raised along the flanks of the two armies. Men from the rear wheeled around and extended into wings.

  The King’s cavalry alternated with the infantry facing towards the side to prevent flanking maneuvers by the remaining South Wansua horsemen.

  A black flag rose from General Bowston’s hand. Battle horns began to blow. Crossbowmen filled the front line as the South Wansuan lines began to advance. The King’s men held their lines. Errant bolts flew out from each side until the air between the two forces was thick with bolts and the cries of falling men reached them over the general din of the battle.

  A yellow flag rose. The King’s men began their advance. The extended wings of infantry and cavalry began to wheel until the King’s battle line was twice as long as their opponent’s. The flankers continued to wheel until the South was caught in a U-shape of the King’s army.

  Dust rose from the battlefield and little after the initial clash could be seen from the hill. Bellia never thought the din of battle would be so loud. At the approach of each messenger, the Kings Swords drew their weapons, ready to cut down the rider. Messengers continually rode up and down the hill carrying messages in both directions.

  Bellia looked down to see ever-shrinking enemy cavalry riding in and out from the battle, attacking the King’s horsemen in ineffective sallies. Since King Rollack’s cavalry wasn’t engaged in front line fighting, they were fresh and began to cut the enemy foot soldiers down.

  At mid-day, the horns blew retreat. Both sides withdrew one hundred paces from the other. The carnage shocked Bellia. So many men were dead or barely moving. Even from this distance, the color red turning dark splotched the ground and the uniforms.

  A group of officers rode out from the enemy’s midst. One man carried a spear with a white flag waving as they rode, picking their way through the dead and dying, into the middle of the field.

  Bellia looked back up the hill. Five of the King’s officers mounted and rode down to establish terms with their foe.

  The battle was over. After the King left the hill, Bellia walked up to the top. On the other side, the rear guard milled around. It surprised Bellia to see so many men. Then she remembered a third of the army were support, just as it was when she joined up.

  The sergeant called to Bellia and the few soldiers that followed her up the hill.

  “The King wants to enter Wolfborough and meet with the South Wansuan King. We will accompany him with his personal guard.”

  “Ceremonial pukes.” Menna said. “I was about ready to let my battle lust take over, but now our opportunity is gone.”

  “Remember, no looting, no sacking, no raping. The penalty is death,” the sergeant said. Bellia could see the woman didn’t like the rule.

  A fellow squad member uttered, “What a way to run an army. Takes all the fun out of it.”

  The sergeant turned around. “Whoever said that won’t be able to say it again. It will be twenty lashes for the next woman who complains.”

  They all shut up.

  ~

  The city of Wolfborough held its silence as the King rode through the city. A few hardy souls lined the streets muttering curses. The King’s Swords marched at the rear of the negotiating group. Other units followed fifty paces behind. In all, about two hundred soldiers accompanied their monarch into the city.

  Wolfborough was the largest town Bellia had ever seen. Most of the buildings were made out of brick or stone. All the roofs were tiled or covered with black slate. Every single road and lane they passed was cobbled with a drainage channel running down the middle.

  The King never had the army march near any large town for the entire route from Northwood on down through South Wansua.

  “Are there towns like this in North Wansua?” Bellia asked Menna.

  “Sure. The King doesn’t want his mischievous troops near real cities.”

  On they marched until they reached the castle. Although Wolfborough sat on a riverbank, the castle sat on a manmade hill at least a hundred feet high. The column walked through three gates letting them through the ringed walls protecting the castle.

  When they entered the castle courtyard, General Bowston wheeled his horse and cantered back to the squad. “The King’s Swords will be entering the castle along with the King’s Guard.”

  “Look lively,” the sergeant commanded. “You’ll be witnessing history made this day.”

  They trudged up the steps to the castle itself. Bellia had never been in such a structure. Every wall inside and out was made of stone. Carvings adorned pillars. High ceilings arced overhead rising from both sides of the corridors. Long high windows brought in the morning sunlight. Their steps echoed in the long hallways.

  An aide to the King stopped them. “The King wants you to march into the room with your quick-step and line up behind the long table where the treaty will be signed.”

  The squad lined up outside the door. The aide nodded and then the squad moved forward. The room quieted down as their steps shot its staccato rhythm throughout the room. They moved behind the table and became the King’s backdrop. The sergeant looked behind the heavy curtains and found a single door.

  “You two flank that door behind the curtain. Move silently.”

  Instead of witnessing history with their eyes, Menna and Bellia barely heard the surrender ceremony as they faced the thick velvet curtain a pace in front of them.

  As a voice proclaimed that the signing was to take place, the door squeaked behind them. Bellia laid down her shield and pulled out her sword and short sword. Menna raised her shield, sword in hand.

  Both women looked toward the door as it opened inward. A helmet poked through and the tip of a sword. The man advanced until he caught sight of Menna out of the corner of his eye. He turned towards his foe as Bellia sliced a smile in the man’s neck. More men flowed out of the door. It was a grisly fight, but it was over in before anyone could reach them. Ten men lay dead or bleeding on the floor behind the curtain. Bellia had, at the end, suffered a thrust into her thigh and ripped the shirt off of one of the dead to bind her wound. A gash right underneath Menna’s helmet brought down a sheet of blood down her face.

 
The sergeant appeared from around the curtain and pulled out a large square of cloth and bound it around Menna’s forehead.

  “You’re all right, Menna,” she said quietly. “The ceremony continues.”

  “I know. I’ve had my skull split enough, but not on my face. It better not leave a scar.” Even the sergeant moved back half a step at Menna’s anger. “We pushed ‘em so close together, none of their blows carried much force.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Bellia said, feeling her wound pulsate. She didn’t feel particularly bothered about a scar on her leg, but from her own personal failure at keeping them from marking her. Her main thought was that she had been able to fight real opponents. She didn’t relish the killing, but when her life was on the line, Bellia now knew she could do what had to be done.

  “You soldiers be quiet. We’re finishing up here,” General Bowston said, poking his head through the curtain then disappearing.

  Most of the squad remained behind the King’s table. Bellia heard the final reading of the terms. They were what she understood the King had offered South Wansua in the first place.

  Now a few thousand needless deaths later, the surrender was signed with one modification. North and South Wansua were now united into the single country of Wansua. The South Wansuan king would remain as a Duke, with authority over the south with King Rollack ruling both domains.

  ~

  Bellia wasn’t happy about being taken out of the throne room on a stretcher. At least the principals and most of the spectators had left. Her thigh began to swell, so she could no longer walk,

  “Now what was that about not seeing any action?” Menna said as she walked at the stretcher’s side. Her head was bound just above her eyebrows.

  “I’ve had enough for a few days. Did anyone find out who the men were?”

  One of the stretcher-bearers spoke up. “One of the new Duke’s brothers. The men weren’t after King Rollack, they were after the former King of South Wansua.”