The Battle for Endallen

by Andrew G. Wood

  Luca knew immediately that Lord Oakley was referring to Edward, although the nobleman had already made it clear that he had no qualms about such things.

  “So I could just say that Jack is Lord Felton and everyone should accept it?” Luca asked, airing his thoughts out loud.

  “You could, but that will not make the problem go away. Especially if his uncle has support among some of the local populace.”

  “Yes, I suppose. And to be fair, Jack has all but accepted defeat in the matter, but I don’t intend giving it to his uncle either. I intend to see him charged for whatever offences we can think of.”

  Lord Oakley pulled an odd face, before snapping his fingers. “I’m not that up to date on all the Lords of Brenthellin, but if memory serves me correctly, there were three brothers.”

  Luca looked at Lord Oakley somewhat confused.

  “Jack’s father, and two others. Perhaps if you do not see the middle brother fit to rule, you could always pass the mantle on to the younger sibling.”

  “And remove Jack?” Luca asked

  “Well, it seems there are other areas of Brenthellin up for grabs, not to mention all Endallen when we remove Lord Elthan.”

  “You mean move Jack, so he can rule elsewhere?”

  Lord Oakley nodded his head, “Just an idea.”

  “Thank you,” Luca said tapping his finger upon his chin as his mind tried to digest the suggestion and the possible repercussions that such a thing might have.

  With his mind already in a spin, Luca suggested to Edward that they go for a walk outside. With the Royal Guard escorting them the pair bid farewell to the Oakley family and made their way down the grand staircase to the foyer.

  “We going out this way?” Edward asked, “I thought you’d want to go around the back to the gardens.”

  “We can go out this way and walk around the building to the back,” Luca replied.

  The two guards on the steps stood upright to attention as they headed out of the main doors and Luca felt the cold chill of the wind on his face. A little cloudy, he thought there might be a chance of rain a little later, and wishing he had worn something a little warmer, knew that it wouldn’t be long before the weather changed and winter set in.

  A number of the farmers were apparently already harvesting some of their crops further south, thanks mainly to the good summer, and Luca knew it wouldn’t be long before the rest of the kingdom followed. Animals would need to slaughtered and butchered, all of which meant that the fighting against Lord Elthan needed to be over as soon as possible. If that one singular problem wasn’t big enough for a young boy to cope with, it seemed that each and every day just brought about more. It appeared to Luca that no sooner was one thing sorted, that two more needed dealing with. Not being used to this, Luca confessed to Edward for the first time that he was struggling to cope.

  As they headed around the side of the main palace building, Luca acknowledged two staff members who bowed their heads as he passed them by.

  “I think you’re doing an excellent job!” Edward replied.

  “You really think so? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

  “No, I really mean it, Luca.”

  Luca gave a wry smile as the pair reached the back and they joined the path that led them around the gardens at the rear. The colourful blooms that had been so prominent were now all but gone, although there were few smaller areas where the hardier plants still showed off their flowers. Some of the trees that bordered the garden walls were already losing their leaves, giving those responsible for maintaining the pristine lawns the seemingly neverending task of picking them up.

  Two female members of staff stopped and bowed their heads, firstly to Luca then to Edward.

  “Lord Smyth,” one said with a chuckle.

  Edward blushed a little and smiled back before continuing slowly around the outer path.

  “Wow, I think that’s the first time anybody has actually called me that,” he said just speaking his thoughts aloud.

  “How does it feel?”

  “Weird!”

  Luca chuckled, feeling a light-hearted moment at the thought, just a small break from the ever-increasing pressure he was feeling himself being put under.

  “You didn’t just come out here for small talk did you?” Edward asked as they turned to follow the meandering path between two flowerbeds, now all but bereft of their colour. Luca stopped and turned to his friend and shook his head.

  “I just needed to get out of there. I never thought I’d say this, but I actually miss the time we used to spend together in Scarwood.”

  Edward gave a warm smile, the kind that suggested that he knew what Luca meant and that he too had fond memories. “Even though people were trying to kill you?” he asked.

  “Well, perhaps that aside,” Luca replied.

  Luca gestured that they take a seat, and Edward duly did as was asked, selecting one of the many benches that were located around the garden.

  “What do you think I should do?”

  “As regards to what?”

  “This thing with Jack.”

  “You are keen to help him aren’t you?”

  Luca nodded, “When I look at him I see me. A young lad, who through no fault of his own, has been dropped into something neither of us was ready for.”

  “You mean to give Sheperton to his other uncle, the one that Lord Oakley was on about?”

  Luca nodded his head that Edward’s assumption was correct, “And give Jack somewhere else. You know, to make a fresh start.”

  “Would he not just have the same problem?”

  “Well, he wouldn’t have a vindictive uncle after him for starters. And I thought I could just give him a small area to look after, somewhere south.”

  Edward thought about what was being said for a moment or two, before agreeing it didn’t seem such a bad idea. “At least the people of Sheperton will get a person who they could not deny was a member of the Felton family. Although you still have the problem of the older uncle.”

  Luca waved a dismissive hand, “I can just have him charged. Lord Romley has amassed enough evidence against him. I’ll just claim he has brought shame to his family name and that is why I have decided to award the lands to Jack’s other uncle.”

  Luca just sat there for a few moments, not speaking but just listening to the sounds around him. With the cold chill of the wind on his face, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

  “Are you okay?” he heard Edward ask.

  Luca nodded, “I’ll cope. I just feel under so much pressure, and I realise now that no matter how much my father had tried getting my tutors to educate me in the ways of being a king, it would never have been enough.”

  “Well, like I said before, I, personally think you’re doing an excellent job,” Edward reiterated his claim and patted his hand on Luca’s shoulder.

  Luca gave a smile, “And from somebody who has special magical powers that means a lot, thank you.”

  “Yeh, what a load of tosh,” Edward scoffed, clearly not believing what Lady Oakley had told them a little earlier.

  “I think there must be something in it. How else do you explain your ability to detect when someone nearby is using magic.”

  Edward just shrugged and pulled a face that suggested he couldn’t explain the reason why.

  “Why did you have to say to Samuel and Nerina about the way I feel for Clarissa?” Edward then asked completely changing the subject.

  Luca felt that he had hurt Edward by doing so and sighed, ”Sorry. It was just the old me coming to the fore and wanting to get my own back for you doing the same to me.”

  “Yeh, I suppose my remarks weren’t much better. Oh well, come on. I’m sure we have people to see,” Edward said clapping his hands together.

  Chapter 10.A gathering storm.

  Although with few friends in the capital city of Miranor, Lord Elthan had received word just confirming what he had already suspected. Frederick, his son a
nd heir, had indeed been captured in the palace and was likely to be executed for treason. While a rescue of sorts was in the back of his mind, Lord Elthan knew that his son’s predicament was all of his own makings and that he had more important things to deal with. The very future of his own lands was now under threat from the army amassing just across his border.

  Thankfully, Endallen was accessible via a narrow strip of land, which did make it somewhat easier to defend. Although, knowing he could not hold out indefinitely, Lord Elthan had decided to split his forces and make a stand here, far away from his capital of Bargsea. Keeping the very best and most loyal of his men to defend his home, he was confident of defending his own castle and keep for much longer than those attacking would be willing to lay siege to it. However, if he could keep them from entering his lands at all by holding the narrow strip that joined Brenthellin and Endallen, at least until winter came, then any invasion would have to wait until spring. By then, not only would he have better defences in place, the will and readiness of those opposing him to fight for their new king would have waned somewhat. The longer Lord Elthan could hold out, the more likely those attacking would lose interest, and there was yet a chance that Endallen could emerge from this intact and perhaps even free from the crown of Arandor.

  Across the narrow strip of land, Lord Elthan’s makeshift and hurried defensive plans had been implemented. The main road and minor tracks had been blocked by felled trees, and large stones being moved across them. Not only did this act as a blockade, but it also gave his soldiers defending this vital positions some defensive cover. While these access points were the most likely targets, Lord Elthan was not so foolish as to think they were the only ones. There was, of course, nothing to stop the army approaching from merely avoiding the roads completely and taking a route through the woods that the roads dissected through. Yet moving such a large force of men and supplies through the dense trees would not be easy, and with time running out, he was confident that the enemy would need to attack head-on, just where he wanted.

  Aside from the temporary roadblocks, Lord Elthan also had his men digging trenches, as well as position scouts and archers in advantageous positions. The numbers opposing him were far greater than anything he could muster, but he held the positions that mattered, something he knew helped level the playing field if and when it came to the fighting. The more casualties he could inflict on those opposing him, the more likely they would lose heart and give up. The somewhat euphoric state that currently filled the nobles and their lesser counterparts about their new king would soon fade, and once the dead started mounting up, they would find excuses to turn about and return back to their own lands.

  Lord Romley reined in his horse as the land narrowed ahead of him, and he could see the dark waters of the sea either side in the far distance. With a force of soldiers numbering well over a thousand, progress from Miranor had been much slower than he would have liked. With the weather already on the turn for the worse, he needed a quick and decisive victory if he was to have any chance of removing Lord Elthan from his castle. Having just received an important messenger from those that had remained in Miranor, it appeared the plan of attack was already changing from its original conception. No longer would his large force of men be leading the main thrust, but now acting more as a decoy to hold up as many of the enemy as possible. With the discovery of ways into Bargsea, the honour of claiming victory for the king looked as though it might now have passed to Lord Dalby, whose forces had originally planned on landing just behind the enemy front line. However, acting upon this new, and important information, it was now apparent that Lord Dalby would be heading straight for the Lord Elthan’s home, while he acted as a distraction.

  While the honour of serving the new king was in itself more than enough to fulfil Lord Romley’s need for justice, being the one who led the decisive battle would have crowned it all off. While it was now apparent that it was no longer going to be him, Lord Romley did not take his own task any less seriously. He still had a vital role to play, and if he got his part tactically wrong could cost the lives of many of the king’s men; something he was not willing to do. Although his group consisted of many noblemen, some even on par to his own social standing, and many from the smaller regions that made up the Royal Brenthellin lands, he was the man afforded overall control. This, of course, may have the added pressure of making him the one solely responsible for the army and its successes and failures, it did mean any final decision was his. Listening to the idea’s of the other nobles was one thing, being able to implement them into a strategic plan was better when only one man had the final say.

  Lord Romley made absolutely no attempt in covering his tracks nor attempting to keep his army from view. As a matter of fact, he was counting on Lord Elthan’s scouts seeing him approach. Each time a report went back, Lord Elthan would surely be forced to have as many soldiers as he could possibly spare to block him, hopefully making Lord Dalby’s task much easier. Although imperative that this war was over before too long, Lord Romley was in no great rush to make his attacking move. Knowing both Lord Dalby and Lord Mangilly would need time to manoeuvre their own respective forces into position, he decided to make camp and allow the men a little time to rest. While the distances covered by some was not overly great, he and his own men had covered the entire width of the kingdom to get there, albeit with a prolonged stay at the capital during the king’s coronation.

  As the sun dipped low in the late afternoon sky, the light from the numerous campfires started to take effect. With a strong guard detail positioned around his camp, Lord Romley stood outside his tent looking out and down at the area he would be moving to in the morning. The flickering lights of the men defending the narrow strip of land that allowed access to Endallen could be seen in the distance from his elevated position. Once darkness took hold, he would send out several small scouting teams to take a better look at the defences and more importantly the numbers opposing him. Although with a general idea of how best to attack, Lord Romley liked to keep his information up to date. If the opportunity arose for him to put more pressure on a particular section of the enemy defences because it was weaker, then he would do so.

  Turning his attention to his own camp, Lord Romley took a moment to gaze upon the numerous standards and flags fluttering around him. Each of them belonging to a particular nobleman and his soldiers, ranging in size from small groups of no more than twenty to those from much larger areas whose size was probably only bettered by the forces from the major nobles. Yet no matter the size of the contribution, Lord Romley knew he could count on each and every one of them to do as he asked. While serving the king was supposedly a foregone conclusion, the fact that if and when they were victorious there would be vast areas of Endallen lands up for grabs would certainly add greatly to their fighting cause. Showing the will to fight for their king in some small hope that might gain his favour, Lord Romley knew many of them were probably doing so for that reason, although none would admit to that being the matter of fact.

  As the last of the daylight slowly faded away and the blanket of darkness shrouded the land, Lord Romley gave the last of his instructions to the officers commanding his scouting parties. With little more that he could do until they returned, he decided to get some food and rest. His large white canvas tent resisted against the wind outside, and having several oil lamps burning, the interior gave ample light by which to see. Equipped with a small but completely adequate bed, a table and two chairs, Lord Romley had far more comfort than any of the others camped around him. With his own guards positioned outside his tent, they would see he was not disturbed unless it was absolutely necessary.

  After sitting on one of the simple wooden chairs that folded away for ease of packing and transporting them, Lord Romley picked at the plate of food that had been made up for him. Consisting of a couple of slices of salted ham, a few tomatoes, a wedge of cheese and a buttered bread roll, the food, much like everything in camp was basic but adequate for th
e purpose. Focusing his attention on the small map that he had positioned on the table beside his plate, Lord Romley went over the places he had marked that he had deemed the best for the focus of his main attacks. While ensuring some fighting went on all along the line, to ensure the enemy was spread out as far as he could force them to be, there were three areas where he deemed worthy of greater pressure. The main road down the centre was the obvious route, and if he could break through there, it would enable his forces to advance in great numbers. However, there were also two minor tracks, one north and one south that could also be used and hence, he had thought applying pressure at those positions as well.

  With his food finished, Lord Romley knew it would be a few hours before his scouts returned with any new and updated information, and thought it best to get some rest. Removing his boots, he clambered onto his bed and lay his head down on the pillow. Staring up and looking at the plain white canvas of his make-shift home, he thought how eerily quiet everything was. Aside from a few soft, muffled voices from outside, there was very little noise and nothing to suggest that the peace would be well and truly broken in the very near future. Like a calm before a wild storm, the moment would soon be upon them, just a short delay before the bloodshed started.

  Having received the latest information via messenger, Lord Dalby of the Casillian Isle was making his own last minute preparations. Being docked off the shore of the mainland just a short distance from Endallen, the change of plan had arrived just in time. Aboard five ships were over four hundred soldiers, the larger percentage of which were from his own lands. Tough, seafaring men, manned the ships and steered them towards their new course. Knowing he could only land when the tide was out, and only then by using smaller, shallow-bottomed boats, allowing his men right onto the beach, the timing was of paramount importance. Thankfully, his crews were experienced and had assured him that he would be where he needed to be before sunrise, despite asking the same question several times.