by Tyler Danann
Bladen was shocked into silence at Gearson’s knowledge, he’d told no-one of the truth about his father. He’d always publicly blamed Irish terrorists.
“Now you know I’m no charlatan. I’ve not come to slur you good Colonels either, but to guide you.”
“What do you say is the best way to save Albion then?” asked Donaldson.
“With some of your proposals, and a few of mine.”
“Which are?” Bladen questioned.
“The main one to tell is a way to spearhead and awaken the sleeping Britons. You see there’s a royal bloodline still in this world that can turn the tide assailing this island.”
“The royalty of this land are either dead or in-exile, we’d have more chance getting the Tsars to show up,” Fairclough jested.
“I don’t speak of the known royalty, or the Romanov folk, but of another royalty.”
“The House of Lancaster?” asked Dudley.
“No, the House of Albion!” Gearson gleamed.
“How do you explain this?” Bladen demanded.
“During the chaos of the fifteenth-century, just before the Richard of York took power, one of the princes in the tower was arranged to escape and a double took his place. That prince escaped overseas and founded a hidden lineage, safeguarded by a secret society known as the Albionic Order. Down the centuries the families secret has been safe-guarded. They weren’t ever to be revealed unless Albion’s people were in the gravest danger.”
“Good heavens, that means there’s an heir to the throne of Albion!” Colonel Penkin said
Gearson turned to Weyland. “Your turn son,” he said quietly.
“When I was in Ireland I learned his name and location. At first I thought it was nonsense, a fools ramble. The more I dug and researched the more I found out. Then the Albionic Order contacted me and showed me the knowledge about the heir to Albion’s throne.” Weyland deliberately kept silent on the underground base, the less they knew the better.
“What can you tell us about this man?”
“Well, the good news is I know who it is, the bad news is he works for our enemy, in the middle of London.”
An outburst of groans and rolling of the eyes occurred but several of the Colonels pressed them for more answers. After they sat down for over an hour they put together plans and ideas on what to do next.
“Weyland,” the Colonel said frankly, “I’ve no doubt you speak the truth, but at this time there can be no mission to London. Another day for such a thing.”
“But sir—”
“Hold your steel, timing is everything,” he said coldly, “Bide your time until then.”
Weyland bowed his head and Seymour spoke to them all.
“The prisoner exchange is tomorrow, and the media broadcast has been successful. Already public opinion within Albion and without is through the roof along with rising attitudes overseas. People now know truth and the lies against us are purged, tempered by hard reality. If it wasn’t for the massacre at Belgravia we’d have it all. As it is this is a bittersweet victory for us all, but when fighting a war, we all know it’s rare to have a bloodless victory.”
Chapter 22
The Passing
It was at the newly fortified border crossing at Laneham that the prisoner exchange was to take place. The two Yeomen that escorted Rebecca were in full armor and they faced the river and bridge silently. Even their heads were covered with ballistic helmets and tinted visors. Waiting Ministry troops and police snipers looked on from the other side of the river.
If they saw who the two Yeoman were, they’d be likely receive orders to open fire, despite the truce and risk to their own prisoner.
The bridge they walked towards had a smaller checkpoint on it, this served as the last position of Yeoman forces before the Lincolnshire buffer zone. A light machinegun nest nearby was heavily protected with sandbags. It trained its sights on the approaching Ministry police. Two, Mastiff-class armored vehicles, did likewise to the machinegun nest on the other side. The two prisoners from London appeared from one of the vehicles and were equally guarded.
“We walk together again for the first time in over ten years,” Lorraine Riley said thoughtfully to the prisoner who limped along next to her.
“Fate has been interesting to all three of us I think, we started together and we end it together,” Weyland said.
“Farewell Yeoman,” she said enigmatically. “If we meet again, pact or no pact it will be final for one or both of us,”
“If it comes to that, it comes to that,” he responded softly, “use your freedom wisely,” he added.
She gave him one of her sultry, unfathomable looks that had a way of looking through a person. Then she walked on alone, crossing the river slowly. About halfway across the bridge Major Matthews approached with his escort, Malthar trailing alongside him. Unlike the latter he’d not been abused while a prisoner, yet the stress and tension of the past few weeks was apparent. Nearly all his companions were slain down in London and replacing them would not be easy. Both men were flanked by two retiring enforcers, obviously chosen for their non-threatening demeanour.
Matthews glanced at the dark-haired Kaslar woman who began to pass him by. He wondered if she was a spy as she had that look of one about her. She took a second look at Malthar, then she’d passed over into the Ministry ranks where Commissioner Roberts waited to greet her. On the other side Roger Matthews was welcomed by his men. His morale soared as he was home at last.
Weyland and Riley watched Rebecca disappear into a Mastiff and the rest of the enforcers turned to leave. Only then did they themselves turn to walk back over the bridge.
“Do you think we’ll ever see her again Eric?” she asked with a hint of sadness.
“No my love, I think she’s going to be elsewhere now.”
“What makes you say that?”
“We have newer, more deadly enemies that will take Rebecca’s place. For now let’s enjoy welcoming Roger home.”
Gearson stood apart from the Yeomanry and he watched the return of Matthews and the spy Malthar. Alongside Gearson was an emissary from his faction. She was an old woman but looked twenty years younger than most her age. She watched the group at the bridge forlornly.
“My grand-daughter sends her thanks Kallan, to you and the Yeomanry,” the woman said emotionally to him.
“It is well that we helped Lady of Ravenscar.”
“Yet I bring bad news,” she spoke lamentably to Gearson. “There will be no reinforcement, hence you’re on your own for the time being.”
“Are you sure? Owesion said he would rally all three of the Kindreds. I was promised a taskforce to help these folk of ours.”
“Not yet, not yet for this island and elsewhere,” she said enigmatically. “Before the battle begins the faction must prepare, so slowly turns the wheel. Such are the ways,” she concluded with a sigh.
Elsewhere it was a day of relief and as the two sides went their separate ways, yet none could be in any doubt that the Yeomen of Albion had triumphed.
However, while they were masters of all they surveyed, they still yearned for that final, crucial lynchpin. A true ruler of Albion was ultimately needed to captain their ship. Colonel Seymour was a brilliant war chief and general but he was not a true ruler. He knew that Albion needed someone of a higher station to at least represent that ancient calling of old. After the buzz of the Major’s return was over he turned to Weyland and nodded.
“Now is the time, go on your quest, find our king! Bring him home to us!”
The End
Out Now!
Mountain Hold
Chronicles of Terra’s Edge
Book 1
The dawn heralds the collapse of world infrastructures, cities becoming arenas of mayhem while governments across the globe fall. Out of the maelstrom of chaos diverse factions are forged and an intrepid new spirit arises.
A small group of survivors desperately flee the collapse. Hoping to build a sanctuary
from the havoc they head into the Rocky Mountains. In the valley below their haven, a small town finds itself under siege from a seemingly unstoppable horde of raiders.
Dark, powerful forces of the apocalypse have awoken, seeking to control and enslave humanity.
One of their targets, the Mountain Hold!
www.hyperborearising.com
Coming Soon!
The Yeoman
Crying Albion series
Book 2
For now, Albion is safe but with the prospect of a hostile task force looming the Colonels must trust in new allies to bolster their fledgling Yeomanry. Yet trust is in short supply and their enemies are closing in.
Eric Weyland knows the only way to prevent outright civil war is to find the one man who can restore the balance. Yet the only chance at restoring it means navigating the chaotic maelstrom of invader-ridden London.
The evil Inner Way and their allies will allow for nothing to stand in their way as they wage a cold war on Albion. Chaos will be unleashed from all sides as the new age looms on the horizon.
www.hyperborearising.com
