by M. S. Brook
“Mm.” Uncle Leo watched me fuss over the blade, making sure the edge was perfect before polishing it with an oiled rag. At length he said, “Somehow I can’t imagine that Rowland is the kind of man to be run off easily. I have every confidence that he will stand his ground. And as for the rest—everything has its time and place. Just now the march to Bal Zor requires your full attention. That is as it should be. There will be time for other things later, I promise you. Do what is before you now, and all else will come in its time.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“All will be well.”
I managed a smile, and Uncle Leo smiled back. “Oh, right,” he said, after a moment. “I almost forgot. I did have another purpose in stopping—more volunteers for the march.”
I raised my eyebrows, glad of a new topic. “Who would that be?”
“The healing school wants to go with you. All of them.”
“The healing school? But can you spare them?”
“They’re free to do as they choose. My one bit of advice is that you send ahead to Evergreen and ask Nieve to be in charge of their company.”
“Oh! Do you think she would go? She’s not one for rough riding.”
“I don’t think she’ll want to miss this one.”
“What about you, Uncle? You haven’t said if you will come.”
“Not this time.” He touched my shoulder as if to soften his answer. “Lord Kempton has asked me to take charge of the volunteer patrols. But you will be in good company, and your song will go before you.”
“What does that mean?”
He shook his head. “You will know. When you need to.”
Another surprise was waiting for me. I made my way to the council room to ask Lord Kempton’s permission for our company of healers to join the march. “The healers may go,” he said, “but they will not be your charge. I have other plans for you. As senior constable, Carlin will, of course, lead the march. But he has requested that you act as his seer. In effect, you will stay by his side to advise him, along with Constable Hill, in plans and strategies throughout the campaign.”
I stared at Lord Kempton. “But this isn’t what I’ve prepared for. I am in no way qualified to advise the constable. And as to my being a seer…I have made many mistakes.”
He smiled. “I’m afraid you’re too late to back away. All this was your idea from the start, and you’ve brought everyone else along. We’re just making it official.” He paused. “And that goes without saying the obvious. You are eminently qualified by your birth—and by your gifting.”
I couldn’t even think how to respond. “But what does he expect of me?”
“The constable understands that you have a great deal of influence in the garrison. The men trust you, but it’s more than that—they believe in you. They would follow you anywhere. And we may need them to do just that.” Lord Kempton rose and paced across the rug in silence, finally stopping in front of the hearth. “Our army is about to face the greatest challenge of our day. To be successful, every warrior must believe that we can defeat Saduk. And that’s where you’re the key. You are able to impart vision. The Guardians may not know who you are, although I’m prepared to believe that they know more than we think. But in any case, they do know that when you’re around, amazing things happen.” He smiled with a faraway look in his eyes. “Things I used to think were only stories for children.”
I smiled too, remembering, and he said, “We’ve come a long way since the day I accused you of believing bedtime stories. In fact, I’ve started to believe, myself.”
“I’m not sure I can live up to those stories.”
Lord Kempton walked back to the table. He sat on the edge of the chair across from me, his shrewd, blue eyes piercing mine. “This story belongs to the House of Enfys. Every player will play his part, but we need a spark, someone to shove us off.” He rose and paced the floor again, hands clasped behind his back. Halting in front of me, he said, “Look, I’m an old soldier. I don’t say things like this often, but something is happening, here. A fire is kindled, and I want to be sure you keep blowing on it.”
Somehow I couldn’t argue with him. He looked at me, slowly nodding his head. “You have every reason to be confident. The men will follow your vision. And you don’t have to fear that any of the officers will be jealous of your position. Believe me, they don’t want to advise this campaign—from a military standpoint, it looks impossible!”
“Well! Thank you for that bit of encouragement, my lord.”
He barked a short laugh and then became serious again. “We have staked everything on this march, my lady. It must succeed.”
“I believe I understand the stakes, sir.”
But did I? Could such a cost ever be reckoned?
Chapter 31
We were ready for Bal Zor in one short month. On the morning we set off, Tower Hill was humming like a bee hive in spring. Swarms of Guardians, clad in red and blue, mingled with those who had come to see us off. My heart pounded as I waited at the tower gate, watching our army take formation. Flags were flying from every turret, and the north-facing wall walk was crowded with the cheering Home Guard, dressed in the royal colors. Everyone in Highfield had turned out. The Household and villagers lined the road all the way to the town, wearing whatever bits of red and blue clothing they could find and waving flags and banners. Even the sky was with us, showing a vivid display of Enfys blue.
I had my own banner now, alongside the Shield of Enfys and the Eagle and Lion standards. The colors, soft and ethereal as a rainbow, reminded me of my pledgestone. The constables of the tower were in position behind the flags. I caught Rowland’s red flame of hair between them; an empty place at his side was waiting for me. Behind Rowland, the officers and regulars were arrayed in their respective companies. In Nieve’s absence, I remained in the castle ward with the healers—the Company of Minstrels, they now called themselves—who were busy filling the air with the sound of pipes, flutes, and drums.
I wished I could feel as joyful inside as the crowds around me seemed to feel. The full measure of what I’d agreed to do had hit me yesterday. I’d spent the night in shallow, anxious sleep, haunted by the specter of Saduk, swinging his great flail before him as all resistance to his charge melted like wax before a scorching flame. Why had I agreed to be Carlin’s adviser? I was in no way ready for such a daunting task. I had never asked to be a seer. My dream was to be a warrior, and through determination and patience I had achieved that. But suddenly that was not enough. I was being asked to use a gift that was unpredictable and outside of my control. Had I, once again, jumped before I was ready?
I had met a number of times with Carlin and Hill to make a plan for flushing out Saduk and meeting him face to face. Hopefully, nothing more would be needed. It will all go forward without me, I told myself. The constables will know what to do. But I had that inner uneasy feeling that things might not go as planned.
I stole a last look at the tower keep before trotting Morningstar through the gates. The Guardians had begun beating their swords against their shields in time with the drums, but they stopped to raise their swords and shout when the minstrels rode out. I held up my hand for quiet, and we began the Guardian anthem. As we sang, I breathed in the ancient words, allowing them to stir my heart with courage.
“O Thou who sang and gave us form,
Protect us as we face the storm.
Watch o’er us as we guard our land
And keep us by your strong right hand.
O may our hearts be true to Thee.
Forever faithful let us be.
The One who sang the stars in place
Still blows upon the mountain face
And makes the mighty torrents roar
As on our land the rain does pour.
O with all nature let us sing
To Maker, Lord, and Highest King.”
&n
bsp; The deep harmonies warmed my heart for the moment, melting the icy knot in my chest. On such a glorious morning, who could fail to believe that we would take Bal Zor for the king? What gate of iron, what piece of rock, what bow or sword, could withstand so great a company?
We finished all the verses with another great cheer. I raised my sword and shouted, “For King Aidan!”
The people responded with a mighty voice. “For the king!”
We cheered and waved our flags, and the crowd echoed back. I snatched a last glimpse of Mama, Papa, and Uncle Leo waving goodbye and slipped into my place beside Rowland, who smiled and nudged his horse to make room for me.
Constable Carlin raised his sword and shouted. “We take Bal Zor for the king!”
With our swords raised to the clear blue heavens and a deafening roar pushing at our backs, we began the long march to Bal Zor.
We took our time, marching from Tower Hill, across the bridge, and through the town, the townsfolk waving and cheering, children running after us until we turned up the Emerald Road. Our wagons of provisions were waiting for us beyond the town, and we stopped to assemble into our marching order—the scouts ahead of us, followed by the constables, and Rowland and I with the standard bearers. Then came the Eagle Company, followed by the minstrels, the wagons of provisions, and finally, the Lion Company bringing up the rear.
“We’ll have to get used to going at the pace of the wagons,” Rowland said to me as we waited to get started.
“Mm. It’s not like going on patrol.” Morningstar was pawing at the road, and I patted his neck to soothe him. “Star’s impatient too.”
“That was some send-off, though. Reminds me of Father’s descriptions of Prince Alestar’s comings and goings.”
“I wish he were here now,” I said fervently.
Rowland held my gaze for a moment. “We’ll be all right. Father says he’s never seen Canwyrrie this unified.”
There was a shouting of orders, and the standard bearers blew three sharp blasts on their horns. Our long column lurched forward.
We’d gone no further than nearby Redmont, the first village along the Emerald Road, when our progress was slowed. The villagers were waiting for us with gifts of flowers, bundles of flatbread, wheels of wax-covered cheeses, and dried fruit. The village had been a great help to us in the weeks leading up to the march, so I was puzzled by the further outlay of provisions.
We rode into the square lined with cheering villagers, and the column stretching out behind us ground to a halt. Constable Carlin dismounted and said to me, “Come with me, Seer. I may have need of you.” I couldn’t imagine what he might need, but I went to greet the village elder with him. We made our bows and murmured courtesies while village children threw chains of flowers around our necks.
“Constable Carlin,” the elder said with a formal bow. “The village of Redmont would speed you on your way with gifts.”
We bowed again. “Thank you, Father,” Carlin said. “We are most honored by your kindness. This is unexpected.”
“It is our pleasure, sir. We do not wish to delay you for long, but we do have a favor to ask of you.” He gestured toward a group of burly men who stood to his left, each holding the reins of a handsome, well-groomed horse. They wore curved hunting bows and quivers full of red-feathered arrows over their shoulders; tall spears and axes were strapped to their saddles and hunting knives to their belts. “Thirty of our yeomen would ride to Bal Zor with you. Not as Royal Guardians, but as volunteers. For when you are done, they will return to their lands and fields. They are our best huntsmen—skilled with the bow and spear. They will fight bravely for you.”
I wondered how the constable would answer. They were men anyone would want on their side in a fight, but they weren’t trained in the ways of warfare. It took more than knowing how to handle a bow or spear to be a warrior. Carlin’s face wore a puzzled look, and I knew what he was thinking. The Royal Guardians did not put untrained volunteers into battle. There was a proper way to become a Guardian; it took training and preparation. On the other hand, we could not insult the good people of Redmont by turning down their gracious offer.
“Good sir,” the constable said, “we are greatly honored by your generous offer, but can you spare them? Surely they are needed here. I know for a fact that you have already sent a score of men to help guard the border. We will likely be gone over harvest time, and I would not see Redmont go hungry this winter.”
The elder held his back straight as a spear. A steady look was in his watery blue eyes. “Our womenfolk have sent their men with free hearts. Those of us who stay behind will work in the fields and do what is needed. For such a cause as this, no sacrifice is too great. I rode with the Lions in my day, and I’d gladly go again if I could—but now it’s their turn to make a mark for Redmont and for our own King Aidan. Perhaps this march will speed the day that our beloved king rides through this land again. We would not miss doing our part.”
At the mention of the king’s name, spoken with such loyalty and reverence, it came to me that our concern for preserving Guardian customs was out of order. Of all people, I understood what it meant for tradition to stand in the way. I took note of the steely look in the yeomen’s eyes, the set jaws and proud stances. Dressed in colorful cloaks, they wore mismatched pieces of armor that must have been handed down in their families for generations. They didn’t look like Royal Guardians, or have the training, but how could we deny such men their desire to serve the House of Enfys in our time of need?
The constable looked my way, and I gave a slight nod. “Then let them ride with us,” he said. “We can surely find a place for them.” He turned to the volunteers. “Do you swear fealty to King Aidan and his Royal Guardians?”
“We do,” they said in deep chorus, hands held over their hearts.
“Kneel, if you please.” They knelt in a line, and the constable touched each of them on the shoulder with the flat of his sword.
“Rise, loyal yeomen of the king. Fall in beside your brothers.”
The men waved at their cheering families and friends and nudged their well-trained horses into the column, their dyed cloaks making a colorful posy in a solid field of red and blue.
It was then I noticed that a celebration had sprung up around us. Children were dancing between the horses, feeding them carrots and tucking flowers into their harnesses, our steady warhorses enduring their laughing attentions without flinching. Old men of the village were mingling, chatting about horses and the possibility of rain, while the women handed out sweets to everyone. Without apology, Redmont had turned our war march into a festival.
We finally said our goodbyes and mounted up. I nodded to the elder. “Father, we are honored by your gifts and your sacred trust. We will carry the remembrance of this day in our hearts.”
He bowed and clapped his hand to his chest. “Every day we will ask the Maker to give you the song of victory.”
I signaled Morningstar to turn around, noticing the quartermaster loading up the last of the gifts into the wagons at the end of the line. It was now clear why Redmont was giving us extra supplies. They were providing for the yeoman we were taking with us. I shook my head. Not two hours into the march, and already a remarkable turn.
Constable Carlin gave the orders, and we moved on, cheers again ringing in our ears. I was hardly less surprised when our experience was repeated at Ramswold, the next village on our way. In the evening, when we sat around our campfires, we could talk of little else.
“Our pace will be slowed if all the villages along the way give us this kind of send-off,” said Constable Hill.
There was murmured agreement among the officers, and Constable Carlin said, “It will be worth it to have all of Canwyrrie united behind us. I would not cut short something I did not begin.”
Uncle Fergal brought up the question of what to do with our untrained volunteers. Constabl
e Hill had the idea of pairing each yeoman with a Guardian regular. “That way, the new man can learn our ways and know what is expected of him when the time comes for fighting. There’s not much time for training, but they can learn our strategies and tactics while we’re on the road.” Everyone was pleased with the plan, and we put it into effect at once.
Constable Hill’s prediction that the pace of our journey would be slow proved true. Our cause was taken up by every village and settlement we passed. Many more volunteers joined us along the way. They came to us, dressed in their brightly dyed clothing and whatever bits of armor they could turn up. Soon our orderly sea of Red and Blues was awash with color.
We reached the Emerald Dales, and the road shifted eastward toward Evergreen. Passing through the ruined village of Oxfield was a grim reminder of what we were about to face. Rowland and I rode to the top of a hill to survey the burned homes and barns. Nothing stirred among the ruins. The survivors had not begun to rebuild.
“They must be too fearful,” Rowland said, “and now with our forces moving north, we cannot provide the protection they need.”
I looked back over the colorful company stretching out behind us. Would we see justice for Oxfield and Evergreen? For River Forge and all the farms and folk that Saduk had hurt? Nothing about this march was turning out like I thought it would, but maybe that was good. Maybe in the unexpected, we would find the answers we still needed.
“Look,” I said to Rowland, pointing at our column halfway overtaken by the colorful cloaks of the volunteers. “We’re not the Red and Blues anymore. We’re like a rainbow army.”
“One thing’s for sure,” he said. “No one will overlook us.”
