by Guy Antibes
“I’m sorry, Prince Peeron. I will return Duke Jellas soon enough.”
Shiro still talked to Chika, both of them coated with mud. He looked up at Anchor and saw Peeron walk out the door. “Now?”
Anchor responded. “Now.”
~
After Shiro had changed his sodden clothes, the five men sat down to eat. Anchor had briefed both men on his travels and the developments at Beckondale. Willom and Jellas began to talk about Prince Peeron, which devolved, into royal gossip. Anchor once had fed on the stuff, but he didn’t feel like listening to the two men catch up with each other. His eyes turned to the sea and felt turmoil in his own soul.
Sallia’s voice when she thought Lotto had come to visit competed with his vision of her face brightening as she recognized him in her rooms. Lotto had Restella. Anchor blinked to clear his vision and his mind. Anchor didn’t own Sallia. Her token had remained back with his kit in Tassleton. Her anticipated correspondence had ended after a few missives, but then he didn’t have the time to answer. Their relationship wasn’t what he had fantasized about. He’d have to push it farther down and deal with it later.
Perhaps after they won the war… But then what if she found out about his role the night her parents died? He felt as if he were tossed to and fro in the ocean that now played an angry tune in front of him. Anchor shook his head and turned back to the court gossip. Maybe it still interested him, a little.
~
Dellamo… no Hovitz. Anchor smiled as the man talked about meeting Duke Jellas and the king. As it turned out, Ashof and Bintz might as well have been part of Learsea, just as the King had claimed. Anter must not have been very involved at his father’s court since he took the opportunity to spy at Grianne. Regardless of Anter’s pedigree, the king easily intimidated the young mountain of a man.
“Would you like to see your father?”
Anter smiled. “Yes. He’ll be impressed that I worked with you two in Grianne.”
The Ropponi didn’t waste any time and they landed in the grand hall of the ducal palace. Ashof had been at peace for so long, that a former duke had built his own palace and used the ancient family castle as a military fort for the ducal army.
“My boy,” Duke Hovitz embraced his son after introductions, “Tell me of your adventures. You’ve arrived with a wizard and a warlord. You have exceeded my expectations.”
That seemed to puff up Anter. “It is time to join our armies with Learsea.”
The duke took them into his study where Anter told his father of their adventures. Anchor only had to plug in certain gaps that the duke’s son had forgotten to add.
“Anter is an excellent swordsman, Duke Hovitz,” Anchor said at the end. “He put up a good fight, although we are both glad that our match was interrupted.”
“You seem about his same age,” the duke said.
“I have more experience, it seems. I feel like a much older man by now.” Anchor gave the duke an abbreviated summary of his adventures from South Keep to the present.
“I’ve heard a less complete version of that. You are famous in the duchies and if half of it is to be believed, you do deserve your position. I’ve heard rumors, likely started by General Fellon about your lack of ability, but,” he slapped his son’s knee, “that’s not true at all. Is it, Anter? My soldiers are ready as are Selgrid’s. We can field two thousand men each. That strips much of my border with Venato, but we haven’t seen many of their soldiers for weeks.”
Shiro nodded his head. “They are all in Teryon.”
“Indeed.”
~~~
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
~
ANCHOR STOOD AT THE TOP of the Learsea-Red Kingdom border keep where the war had started with Histron. Leef, Shiro and Tishiaki were with him. The cold wind whipped occasional flakes of snow in their faces as the setting sun painted their faces a pale orange. The border plain looked bleak in the waning light. He tried not to let the melancholy aspect of the scene affect him.
“My men and women have teleported all along the frontier including the Red Kingdom side of the passes that they traversed in the summer and fall. No one is near,” Tishiaki said.
“I want five teleporting Red Roses and five thousand men waiting here are a reserve,” Anchor said. “I doubt anything will be happening here until the spring.
“We know,” Leef said. “Now you’ve seen it with your own eyes, you can begin your campaign.”
Anchor nodded. “It’s time that both of you worked with Colonel Baanth and the generals of Bintz and Ashof to fine tune the battle of Grianne. There are wizards that Anter didn’t see, but we have to assume they are in Grianne. They wouldn’t be testing for power if they weren’t planning on using battle mages. Perhaps they were quartered in the town. The two I met weren’t very impressive.”
“I agree,” Shiro said. “Not even a word about battle mages fighting alongside the duchy armies among the common soldiers.”
“All of the forces will assemble at Tassleton. Shiro and I are heading to Histo. I want to see that Dakkoran army with my own eyes.”
“I’ll take a Ropponi with us to Histo. Then, the sorcerer can return to Tassleton, should you need to communicate with us.”
“We are all agreed? Wish us all luck,” Anchor said.
~
Anchor, Shiro and the Ropponi appeared close to Chika in a forested area.
“Histo,” Anchor said. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been here. Histo is every person’s backwater duchy. If you thought Happly was a poor country. Histo has it beaten. It has never been absorbed by Prola, Gensler, Besseth or the Red Kingdom because no one wants it. Even its ports are worthless.”
“Except for one,” Chika said. “The smuggler’s bay, a single thrust into the womb of the country.”
Shiro shook his head with a smile. He said something to her in Ropponi causing them both to laugh. Better Shiro than he. Anchor would soon turn back into an old man with Chika around him all of the time. He dismissed the Ropponi, who disappeared, leaving the three of them alone.
“Take us to the duke,” Shiro said speaking Bessethian again. Chika put her arm through his as they walked through the skiff of snow on the muddy road.
Off in the woods, Anchor noted the tents and the small groups of men huddled around smaller fires. She led them to the duke, warming his hands on an iron brazier. The coals glowed so hot that the metal took on the same hue.
“We attack at first light,” the duke said. Prince Peeron nodded to Anchor.
A soldier handed Shiro and Anchor a white strip of cloth.
Peeron pointed to his bicep. “Wrap it tight. Lose it and someone might think you’re the enemy.”
It was all Anchor could do to thank King Willom’s son. Dealing with the man felt no better than walking barefoot over a bed of glowing coals as hot as those in the brazier.
Anchor looked at the setting sun, still brushing the tips of the trees above him. He shouldn’t haven’t have teleported into the middle of the camp of the army of the south in darkness, but Shiro could teleport to Chika’s side, no matter where she was.
After a mostly cold evening meal, Chika showed them to two tents. One for him and the other for them. Shiro would enjoy the night. Anchor hoped he’d get more sleep than his friend. An armful of blankets had been spread on the floor of the tent. Anchor burrowed into the middle of them. He heard various noises from Shiro’s tent drifting into his ears as he tried to calm down.
Sallia came into his mind and the impossibilities of a relationship fought with his mind. He’d be an old man again when all of this was over. Then what did he have to offer Sallia? Perhaps he could return to his holding once Sallia reached the throne. There was always Willow. She had devoted herself to him. But then Unca always regarded Willow as a sister in their years at the holding. No, he never loved his housekeeper and Anchor had to admit, regardless of his age, he loved Sallia. He gave into his fantasies and thought of Anchor and the princess together, casting
aside his real persona. Anchor finally slept with Sallia’s image in his mind.
The ground underneath Anchor’s tent shook and rolled. He rose from his blankets, whatever dream that ran through his mind had fled. He jumped out of his tent to see Chika laughing with her arm around Shiro.
“I felt an earthquake,” Anchor said. “I’ll bet it was very localized.” He didn’t think Shiro would do something like that.
“Very. The earth moved,” Chika said and laughed into her gloved hand.
“It served its purpose, I suppose,” Anchor said. “Is there any food about?” Anchor could feel the press of men about him in the dark.
Shiro pulled a sack from behind him. Anchor could barely see them. “Water and dry rations,” the Ropponi said. “We are to finish them. It’s likely to be a long day. For us as long as we wish it to last,” Shiro’s voice took on a serious note. They would again fight together.
Chika said something to Shiro in Ropponi and gave him a furious kiss. She waved at Anchor and took off into the dark.
“She leads the Red Rose. They will take out the sentries,” Shiro said.
“Why don’t you join them?”
The forest was beginning to lighten up just a bit. Anchor could make out Shiro’s face in the gloom.
“We protect each other, you and I.”
Anchor grabbed Shiro’s shoulder. His eyes began to water. “We do. You and I, brother.” Anchor felt a bond with Shiro. He didn’t know if it was magical. He doubted it, but he never had a brother or sister. If he did, he’d barely know them since he was taken as a wizard’s apprentice at a young age.
Shiro grabbed his shoulder. “Brother. We fight together all the way to the end.” Shiro bowed his head in the Ropponi fashion and the moment ended as men began to move past them.
They flowed into the path of the silent march. Anchor felt like a wraith joining other souls on the way to some kind of hell. Blood would be spilt today. All of the fighters would fight in a foreign land. Many would die. Anchor doubted the Red Rose would want to teleport the dead. He wouldn’t.
Anchor now looked as the darkness turned into blues and blacks. He spotted the duke dressed in white and remembered that he hadn’t tied the white band to his bicep. Shiro had. He stopped to do so. Men continued to flow around him, slowly so that their battle gear would not disturb the quiet of the dawn. Peace before the violence. He took the time to clean the edge of the large sword he had taken from the Serytaran officer in Learsea. The enchantment kept the edge pristine. Anchor didn’t know what spell could do such a thing and Shiro had mentionedwards that meant the sword might do even more.
He caught up to Shiro who had drifted towards the duke, as Anchor had wanted to. Shiro clutched his stone. “It begins,” he said.
Anchor heard faint cries and noises to his right. Valetan forces had made first contact as planned. Lessa would be next and finally, Gensler’s army would close the vise. They continued to move forward. The noises intensified. Up ahead a few men raised their weapons in surrender. Deserters.
Finally, Chika appeared next to Shiro. The sentries had been taken out and the duke ordered his army to converge on the camp. Anchor, Chika and Shiro walked through the woods and underbrush. He could now see the duke some hundred paces to his right. The noises began to separate. The clash of swords and hiss of arrows mixed with the cries of battle.
“Charge!” the duke cried out as they moved forward. As planned, a cadre of Gensler soldiers surrounded the duke. Anchor couldn’t stop the sneer on his face as he saw Prince Peeron’s face within the circle of protectors. The man didn’t exactly launch himself into the fray.
He ran to catch up with Shiro as the entered the Dakkoran camp. Enemy soldiers still struggled to don armor or grab weapons. The fighting began to heat up. Anchor jumped up on a boulder to look across a large meadow. Tents covered the entire ground. He could see wooden paths elevated above the floor of the meadow and as the sky brightened, he noticed that the tents were also on platforms. This was a winter camp, beyond doubt. He went from tent to tent along with the rest of the army, rousting the more cowardly from their shelters. Lessa had taken a bit more time reaching the camp, but he could see a line of soldiers emerge from the far side.
Anchor looked inside an empty tent and then as he exited, he saw a soldier crawl from underneath the walkway, ready to strike Chika. He couldn’t engage and doubted his voice would carry in the cacophony. He threw his sword at the man. The attacker turned to Anchor, but the clattering of his blade warned Chika. She turned and rammed her staff directly into the man’s throat. Anchor leapt down onto the meadow floor to retrieve his sword and found a column of Dakkorans lying down, waiting to pounce on their invaders.
“Shiro! Can you somehow communicate this to others?”
Shiro grabbed his stone and Anchor could see his head move as if he were talking. “Lotto knows. Chika teleport to Lessa and let him know.”
Anchor began to fight with the hidden men. He jumped back on the wooden walkway and with the increasing light of burning tents. He could see the men between the spacings of the boards and began to plunge his sword through the gaps. Other soldiers saw what he did and soon soldiers began to do the same as Dakkorans began to climb out from underneath the walkways and fight the alliance soldiers.
A burning pain slid across Anchor’s calf as a soldier had crept from a tent behind him. He turned and dispatched the man. Anchor jumped into the tent and found three more men. The fight had drifted towards the center of the camp and the tents hadn’t yet been clear. He fought the men as they yelled at him in their own tongue. Unca had never studied the contemporary Dakkoran languages. He only knew the Dakkoran written word. He had to move quickly if he wasn’t to die himself. Soon the enemy all had passed on to their ancestors. Anchor felt the blood soak his boot. He rummaged around in a tent and found a medical kit. He wrapped his calf tightly. He didn’t have the time to stitch the wound up and he had no desire to. Unca could have deadened the pain, but Anchor couldn’t. He returned to the fight, but his energy had begun to flag. Shiro fought two Dakkoran’s up ahead and Anchor had enough within him to get the other man.
“I’m wounded. Lost some blood, I’m afraid,” he said. Shiro looked down at the now-red rag around his leg.
“Let’s join the duke. There are enough men and women here to finish the job,” Shiro said. He took Anchor’s arm and the stood just outside the duke’s perimeter. Anchor looked for Peeron, but now that the fight was about over, Peeron would be finding a wounded soldier or two to dispatch and bloody up his sword.
“Where can Anchor find medical assistance?” Shiro said as Chika appeared.
“I’ll help him. We are fighting them to the last man,” Chika said.
Anchor found a fallen tree to sit on.
“I’m a face down girl and so are you, today,” Chika said, smiling. “On your stomach.”
Anchor knew the taste of magic used to heal. He endured the pain. Using Affinity to heal didn’t keep the process from hurting when joining tissue. It stopped and he began to breathe easier.
“You can sit on the log again so I can take care of your other wounds.”
Other wounds? Anchor now noticed his coat was tattered. His white armband had come off some time ago. He found himself glad that Peeron hadn’t come upon him. He wouldn’t put it past the man to hew him down if he didn’t wear the Gensler token.
Shiro sat on the ground next to him, chewing on a battle ration. The protective ring around the duke had relaxed and soldiers came in with reports and out with messages. Someone put a wineskin in his hands. Anchor drank. The healing had worn him out. He felt like throwing himself on the ground and sleeping, but he wanted to know how the battle fared.
Lotto showed up dragging an officer of some kind. Shiro rose from his seat brushing the crumbs of his rations from his hand. “Time for more work.” He waved his pouch with the Sunstone at Anchor.
He threw the officer down on the ground. Anchor noticed that Lotto
held the man’s sword. Lotto handed him the weapon. “Be careful, it’s enchanted like yours. Probably never loses an edge.”
It had been a while since Anchor had desired his power, but now he wished he could see the sword wards, as Shiro would call them, and compare then with the one he took off of the Dakkoran sergeant at the beginning of the Learsea conflict. He slid the sword out of its scabbard. Blood flecked the blade, but the shape was similar to his. It was shorter and better balanced for his fighting style. The edge had never failed on that one. Anchor leaned forward and closed his eyes as he put his head on folded arms over his knees.
~
A passing soldier kicked his toe, bringing Anchor out of his sleep. He still sat on the tree trunk. He stood and picked up his new sword, giving his long Serytaran blade to a passing soldier to go back to the army’s weapon stores.
Lotto quietly spoke to the duke, nearby. Anchor yawned. Gensler soldiers were pulling down Dakkoran tents. In the middle of the meadow, a pile of Dakkoran bodies grew as soldiers began the grisly task of creating a pyre. There certainly was plenty of wood to keep the blaze alight. Wooden walkways were thrown on the pile along with the corpses.
“How many dead for us?” Anchor asked.
Lessa turned around. Anchor hadn’t even noticed him standing there. “Less than one in twenty. A total rout.” The Prolan held out his hand. “Good work. Your discovery of their little hiding trick saved a lot of lives.”
Lotto nodded as he rose to join the conversation.
“Where is the officer?”
“Prince Peeron has taken him to Sally’s Corners,” Lotto said. “He was fourth in command of the army. No sorcerers here. They stayed on the ships with the three top officers of this army rather than live in the mud and snow with their men. Shiro is leading the Red Rose to destroy the ships as we speak. Lessa’s flotilla is still a week away.”
Lessa shivered. “I’d hate to be in the middle of a fight between battle mages.”
Anchor had to agree since he actually had—a number of times. “Where were they headed?”
