Queen of Rebels

by Karim Soliman

  Gramus exhaled a few times in boredom, Rona keeping her eyes on the gate in anticipation. For someone defending his village, Masolon was taking too long to come, and she doubted those knights and archers around her might intimidate him. Was it her escape that made him wary about her intentions of meeting him? What was he thinking? That she would stay in his rabbit hole for good? Well, he should not be surprised at all. More than once she had urged him to hurry and find a way to communicate with her general, and he had not given her the slightest sign that he would see to her simple request.

  Gramus was not the only one growing impatient here. She hoped Masolon would cooperate and help her settle this Herlogan dilemma for once and for all. What she needed was a warm bath and a clean dry dress instead of this gown she had soaked in the river while swimming away from her prison.

  Coming back to this village in less than a day was a folly she still could not believe she was committing. Earlier this morning, when Masolon went out of the house, she was determined to run away whatever the consequences were. After making sure he was away from the house, she sneaked out and headed to the hillside to make that scary jump into the river. One minute of swimming was enough to make her realize how exhausted she was. Fortunately, the current was not that strong, and she managed to keep herself close to the shallow parts to rest every now and then. When she believed she had passed the wall of Herlog by some decent distance, she looked for a not-so-steep spot from which she could ascend to the woods.

  Her exhaustion got worse as she had to make her way through the woods to the main road on foot. Taking an exposed road was a bad idea, so she stayed in the woods while keeping the road in sight. Losing her way again was not a pleasant experience she was ready to test.

  Fate was merciful enough to her that she encountered one of her scouts near the walls of Subrel. When she learned about Gramus's march with siege engines to Herlog, she ordered the scout to surrender his horse and boots, and the poor fellow had no option but to obey. His feet were bigger than hers, but at that time, picking a boot her size was a luxury she could not afford.

  The creaking of the wooden gate interrupted her sweet memories of this long day. With slow steady steps, Masolon came out of the gate, donning the full black armor she had always seen scattered around his house.

  "That's not the attire of someone coming out to talk," Gramus curtly remarked, and Rona could not disagree as she eyed all the weapons he carried—two swords, a steel shield, a bow, and a full quiver. She would be surprised if a whole minute passed without provoking any of her archers to aim and stick an arrow in his heart.

  "Lower your weapons." Rona gestured to Payton and his bowmen when Masolon stopped midway between her and the gate behind him. "Nobody follows me. Is that clear?" She peered at Gramus.

  "No way will I leave you with him on your own." What if Gramus knew she had been on her own with him already, in one bedchamber?

  "I understand your worries, General. But I want you to rest assured that I can handle this man."

  "No, Rona, not again," he snapped when she went onward.

  "Gramus! What is wrong with you?" She glared at him. "Disobey me in front of my men?"

  "You know very well that is not my intention."

  "Just stay where you are. I will be fine," she promised before she resumed her short walk to meet the armored bastard. He had better be not up to some foolish act. Yes, he was fearless, but he should have a little reason not to ruin the only chance to save his worthless townfolks. . . and himself.

  Masolon looked her up and down. "You are not properly dressed for such an occasion if you ask me."

  "I was too hurried to change my outfit," she curtly countered.

  "Alright, then." Masolon sighed, his hands on his waist as he gazed at the troops behind her. "You made your point, Your Grace. You are bolder than many men I met, I give you that."

  He knew he was defeated and he was blaming her for that; she could sense that by the tone of rebuke in his voice.

  "You put yourself in this situation, Masolon. You should have set me free when I told you."

  "And leave me nothing to negotiate with? That does not sound like a plan to me."

  "I told you I would settle the matter with my men, but you never trusted me."

  "Then I am sorry for not trusting you." The handsome bastard smiled crookedly.

  "I am not here for your apologies or your sarcasm. I need you to listen to your mind this time and help us sort this mess out. Can you do that, for once at least?"

  "Help us?" Masolon looked over his shoulder at the destroyed wall. "I see you are in no need of my help, Your Grace."

  Rona had to ignore his folly and go straight to the topic. "Listen. There is no need to spill more blood. Give up your weapons, and let my men take you to Subrel without any resistance from your side."

  Masolon shook his head, a nervous smile slipping over his face. "I cannot believe this. Is this the best you can offer?"

  "Do you have a better proposal?"

  "Of course." His jaw tightened. "You walk away with your army, and that way, you spare the lives of the soldiers I would kill if they set foot into the village."

  "Seriously, you need a slap on the face to wake you up." Rona would have done that if it had not been for the audience behind her.

  "I am sober, Your Grace. Believe me, I have not touched your chamomile drink since that night."

  Rona was not sure what he was implying by referring to that night, but she found his remark a bit aggravating. "Is your pride blinding you that much? Or are you too foolish to realize that any option other than your surrender will eventually end up with your death?"

  Masolon shrugged, his lips tightening to a firm line. "Maybe I do not care if it ends up with my death."

  "Because you believe you have nothing to lose. Is that it?"

  "You do not understand." Masolon leaned forward. "Death might be my only way to find peace. Why should I be afraid of it?"

  "You boast of it as if it is some sort of bravery."

  "I am boasting of nothing. I am just—"

  "You are a coward," she cut him off, looking him in the eye. "That is what you are."

  Masolon jerked his head back. "You say what?"

  "You are a coward, Masolon. You are too afraid to live and face the consequences of your deeds." She scowled, gesturing toward the village behind him. "You cannot abandon your men after you involved them in a war they could never win. You decided to avenge their girls? Fine. Stand up like a man until you settle that matter for them."

  "I am standing like a man. That is what I am doing right now."

  "You are getting yourself killed; that is what you are doing. Draw a weapon or make any foolish move, and you will give the knights behind me an excuse to unleash their wrath to avenge their brothers as well as their pride."

  "Will that not settle it? I am the one whom your men want dead after all."

  That stubborn rascal was really desperate to die. Perhaps she should save herself the trouble and let him fulfill his wish. Seriously? Who am I fooling with that wrinkled, soiled gown? She was still wearing it for a reason.

  "What about your lads?" Good thing she remembered them now. "Perhaps you don't care about your life, but what about theirs? Your inspiring martyrdom will drive one of them to commit something foolish."

  He paused, hopefully giving her proposal a thought. She knew it would not be easy to persuade that arrogant, reckless bastard to surrender.

  "In the beginning, I presumed you were here to dictate your terms and gloat over my defeat," he started. "But my lads' lives? I never imagined they mattered that much to you." He peered at her for a moment, as if he was reading her face. "What point do you want to prove here, Rona?"

  Was he serious? Because his question was really frustrating. "You are more foolish than I thought." She lifted her arm, gesturing to her men to stand down. "Now slowly, pull that greatsword and drop it at my feet."

  His hand reached for his back. But th
e item he produced was much shorter than his massive weapon. "No one in Herlog shall be harmed." He held the dagger he had hidden from her, its pommel toward her.

  "You have my word." Rona took her weapon, a faint smile on her face. Finally, he was acquiescing.

  "What happens to me afterward?"

  "Nothing worse than what could have happened to you here."

  "I am not spending the rest of my life in a cell."

  "That will not happen."

  "When will you release me? No army is coming for me." He smirked.

  "When I see the time is right, and you have to trust me when I say that, Masolon." She almost jabbed him in the chest before she remembered the eyes watching her. "You must understand what I am going through to convince my men with my reasons to spare your life."

  The smile on his face was less annoying. "Your reasons are strong ones, it seems."

  It's not what you think, you bastard, she wanted to say, but she did not wish to interrupt him while he was dropping his weapons at last.

  26. GRAMUS

  Something was wrong with Rona.

  She had not been herself since they crossed the Bermanian borders. Knowing that she had to act like a queen, especially in the presence of her vassals, he gave her an excuse for being firm, and sometimes harsh, with him. Maybe he had himself to blame for that. He was the one who always encouraged her to show her men a face they should respect or even fear, and she had taken his advice seriously when she slew Jerek with her own hands. He neither approved nor disapproved of her action; his major concern was choosing that old bastard, Darrison, over him to share her plans with.

  Well, that was upsetting enough. But what he had watched at the walls of Herlog was both infuriating and strange.

  Gramus could not hear the conversation between Rona and Masolon—the conversation she insisted on keeping Gramus out of—but he did not need his ears to tell there was something strange going on there. Not formal, to say the least.

  By the orders of Queen Rona, all troops were returning to the castle of Subrel, and not a single soldier was to set foot in the village they had been besieging. "I don't want a massacre here, General," she had justified. "Slaughtering peasants is not how I want my name to be remembered." But what about slaughtering the rascal who had slaughtered her soldiers? All the way back to Subrel Gramus wanted to ask her, but he himself did not feel like talking to Her Grace at the moment. No one would dare to question the Queen's decisions.

  Most of the cavalry escorted Queen Rona and her general ahead of the train, the rest lingering to accompany the foot soldiers and the siege engines. Payton was always around Rona, spending most of the ride chattering with her. The young queen seemed to be enjoying the company of the good-looking commander. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying the company of anybody else other than her general. Even that dull Edmond; he had his time with the queen where both kept their voices so low that nobody else could hear them.

  At midnight Rona gave the permission to get some rest. Right after dawn they resumed their ride to the castle, and the first thing she did was summon Gramus to ride by her side. Finally the Queen remembered she had a general.

  "Any news about Di Galio?" she started. Had she not asked his deputy already?

  "Our scouts see nothing." Which he found dubious, but he kept his doubts for himself for the time being.

  "You think he is waiting for us to attack him in Ramos?"

  "The Fox is an unpredictable opponent, Your Grace."

  She nodded, and for half a mile they remained silent, the morning breeze getting a bit stronger.

  "Shall I get you a coat?" he asked her.

  "I'm fine," she acknowledged with a smile he had not seen for long. "It's true I was born in Bermania, but don't forget where I was raised."

  Her mood was much better today than last night, yet he was not encouraged to voice his concerns about her conversation with Masolon. Both were silent for a few minutes until she said in a low voice, “We are infiltrated, Gramus.”

  He could not agree more. Actually, he was worried about raising the issue with her lest she might accuse him of mistrusting her "worthy" vassals. “What makes you say so?”

  “The ambush on the road. First a message urging me to hurry to Subrel, then a band of knights attacking my camp at night. Only a fool would believe that was a coincidence. Those who ambushed me knew when I would be outside the walls of Kalhom.”

  The traitor was either in Neldon or Subrel. Probably, she had traitors in both castles. "You know who attacked you on the road?"

  Rona curled her lips, shrugging. "No one I could recognize. It was too dark to tell."

  "But not too dark to tell if it was Masolon or any of his minions or not."

  “Masolon? Of course not. He is not one of Di Galio’s men.”

  Gramus knew that Anvil was a liar. His turn will come. “What makes you so sure of that? You trust him?”

  Rona tilted her head, peering at Gramus. “Trust has nothing to do with it. It just does not make sense. If he was Di Galio’s man, why didn’t he kill me? Or even surrender me to him?”

  “But he kept you as a hostage in his village.”

  “He kept me as a guarantee. He wanted to trade with you when you came back.”

  Things did not add up for Gramus. There was an untold part in Rona’s tale which she did not reveal, or even did not want to share. He gazed at the looming castle ahead in the distance as they approached it. “You are not safe there until we catch that traitor, Rona. I can sense Di Galio’s strike coming sooner than we think.”

  Rona looked worried, and she should be. “You just said our scouts didn’t spot any dubious moves around us.”

  Yes, while he had indeed said that, he was not comfortable saying it. He would discreetly send out other scouts to validate his concerns, but how would that help while he was suspicious of everybody?

  "Listen, Rona." Gramus leaned toward her as they passed through the gate. "I don't want you to wander anywhere inside the castle without a dozen Skandivians at least. Don't let any Bermanian come closer to you than them."

  "They are mercenaries, Gramus. If we could buy them, someone else could as well."

  Lanark was in the courtyard when Gramus and Rona stopped their horses, the stable boys hurrying to take the destriers by their bridles. The young lord was approaching when Gramus leaned toward her. "Still, you can trust those mercenaries more than your vassals. Stay alive until I come back."

  Rona dismounted, her raised eyebrows betraying her astonishment. "Where are you going?"

  Gramus jerked his chin toward Lanark, who briefly greeted him. The young lord then hurried to Her Grace and laid a kiss on the back of her hand, thanking the Lord of Sky and Earth for bringing her back safely. Another hypocrite.

  Gramus waved to his stable boy to make way for him before he wheeled his horse and rode back to the gate, the knights coming in eyeing their general as he exited. Under normal circumstances, he would inform his deputy at least where he was going. But who would he be fooling? That Edmond, his deputy, had been and still was Darrison's minion.

  Scouting the area on his own; after an hour of wandering around the western territories of the castle, he realized how ridiculous the idea was. Perhaps he had gone too far in his doubts about his scouts.

  Avoiding the main road, Gramus ventured west through the vast wooded area until he saw the walls of Ramos. A risky move that was, especially when you ride an armored destrier that could easily be outrun by lighter horses. But knowing his enemy's position was worth the risk. At least, he now knew he would not be expecting any attacks in the coming few days.

  He heard the whizzing less than a second before he felt the pain in his upper arm. When he turned left to see his shooter, two more arrows hit his destrier, piercing through its armor. The agonized horse whinnied as it fell on its right side with its rider, Gramus received the worst of the fall on his right, unwounded arm, his elbow almost tearing apart.

  "Halt! Don't move!
" The shooters warily approached as Gramus slowly sat on his knees, the arrow still piercing his left arm. "Raise your hands or the next arrow will hit you between the eyes!"

  Gramus sucked in a deep breath, groaning as he lifted his heavy arms.

  "I said: raise your hands!" the same archer insisted, nocking another arrow onto his bow.

  "I. . . cannot. . . not more than this." Gramus's forehead was wet with sweat on this cold day.

  "Very well, then." The nervous archer pulled his bowstring. "You asked for it, bastard."

  27. MASOLON

  Masolon did not need anybody's help to dismount with tied hands. The moment his feet touched the ground, four guards hurried to him. One of them unlocked the chain binding him to his horse, two others holding him by the arms, the fourth pointing a sword at his chest. They were mad at him; he could see it in their clenching jaws and sense it in their tight grips. He must have killed a good number of their dearest brothers in their first failed attempts to storm his wooden fort. Maybe they were scared as well. And they should be.

  An armored blond intercepted their way as they dragged Masolon into the castle. "He is mine," the blond firmly told him, extending his arm to take Masolon's. Surprisingly, the guards did not hand their prisoner to that blond who seemed to outrank them.

  "He is dangerous, Captain," one of them justified, Masolon flattered nonetheless.

  "I said: he is mine, soldier." The blond captain glared at them, and finally they acquiesced, letting him take their dangerous prisoner. Masolon should admire the captain's confidence though.

  When they were inside the castle, the captain let go of Masolon's arm. "Queen Rona has ordered me to take care of you, Commander Masolon. I cannot promise you a luxurious cell to be honest, but I reassure you that no one will harm you here."

  Commander? Masolon found it funny to be recognized now. What was even funnier was the captain's reassurance that no one would harm him in Rona's prison. She is giving me a taste of my own medicine.

  "Did she tell you why you should do that?" Masolon thought it would be amusing to know.