The Wounded Guardian

by Duncan Lay

  Even the competition between himself and Barrett was forgotten. It was down to reaction, instinct and skill. He just had to trust himself and his abilities. The only thing he was aware of was the way sweat was now dripping off Barrett. The wizard was obviously using plenty of energy to sustain this level of magic and had to be tiring. It was just a question of outlasting him.

  Barrett’s face was beginning to tighten with the effort and suddenly his skin lightened back to its normal tone, evidence he had dropped his magical protection, which was pointless anyway. Instantly Martil leapt forward, forcing Barrett to break off and perform another of his giant leaps away. But this time Martil chased him, and then launched another furious attack.

  Barrett flipped over his head and the staff came whistling around; it was only Martil’s reactions that saved him, as he managed to deflect the huge blow over his shoulder. He could see the strain on Barrett’s face now, and thrust a sword at his face. The staff came up and deflected it, then whirred around. Martil dropped to one knee to get under the blow and the staff came down at him, Barrett feeling Martil could not get away this time. And Martil did not try to get away, instead he swayed aside as the staff came down, then struck with both swords—not at Barrett but at the staff, the two wooden swords crossing over to trap the staff against the ground. He kicked out at Barrett’s legs, forcing the wizard to jump away and let go of his staff.

  Martil got to his feet, breathing heavily, to see a defiant Barrett puffing and sweating a few paces away. Martil expected to see him looking defeated, but he just looked angry.

  Barrett was kicking himself for letting go of his staff. But he knew how to get it back. It would take plenty of power but leaving himself drained was not important. Defeating Martil, and retaining respect, was.

  ‘Come on then, finish it,’ he invited.

  Martil looked into his eyes and had the horrible feeling the wizard was going to try some more magic if he stepped forwards. Something that was going to hurt them both.

  ‘And what a wonderful finish it was!’ Merren said loudly, walking into the circle and applauding them.

  Instantly the watching men, women and children were cheering, and both Martil and Barrett were forced to acknowledge the crowd.

  ‘You can go into battle knowing you will be fighting with the mightiest magician in the world, and the mightiest warrior as well!’ Merren cheered them both, then walked until she was close enough to hiss at them both: ‘Shake hands! Do it now! Don’t make me ask again!’

  Martil reluctantly reached over, and Barrett equally reluctantly took his hand, and the cheers redoubled.

  Barrett went back to teaching Karia, while most of the men all wanted Martil to teach them some of the moves he had used against Barrett.

  But it was not the end of it. They tried to avoid each other after that, both knowing they had been in the wrong, both knowing that Karia was upset they did not like each other—and both knowing Merren was watching them closely. For Karia’s sake, they tried to pretend it was all a joke. But ironically it was over Karia that their antagonism flared once more.

  ‘I hope you’re not pushing her too hard,’ Martil cautioned Barrett one night, after Karia had yawned all the way through the evening meal; Merren had ordered a full council meeting over roast lamb and then had roasted them all on the lack of progress.

  ‘Do you know magic? Do you know the right way to train someone?’ Barrett said defensively.

  Martil saw his opportunity to put Barrett in his place.

  ‘No, but I know Karia. She will say she wants to keep going, even when she is tired. Which, incidentally, she will never admit to, even when her eyelids are drooping and she can barely get a word out because she is yawning so much,’ Martil snapped.

  ‘I can feel how tired she is, by the way she performs her exercises,’ Barrett argued. ‘Besides, part of learning magic is learning your limits, and pushing yourself. I know what she is like, and when not to let her do any more.’

  ‘She’s too small to be pushed too far! I know her better!’ Martil insisted.

  ‘Better? Because you killed her father and brothers?’ Barrett sneered.

  ‘Enough!’ Merren’s voice whiplashed across the table. ‘I need a word with both of you.’

  Martil glared at Barrett, who stared back, and the pair of them followed her deeper into the cave system, away from the large cave which Merren had established as her audience chamber, and where they had all been eating around the wooden table from the lodge.

  ‘I know what this is about,’ she told them quietly, her voice clipped and angry.

  This time the look that Martil and Barrett exchanged was part nervous, part accusatory.

  ‘The two of you both want to be the hero, trying to outdo each other to win my attention. Just what you expect to achieve by doing that, I do not know. Indeed, I do not want to think about it. This country’s future, my future, rests on your skills. If you cannot work together, then we have no chance of beating Gello. I must ask you now to either put aside your differences or go. You do not have to like each other, but I refuse to see either myself or Karia used as pawns in some ridiculous game between the two of you. Is that understood?’

  ‘My apologies, your majesty, you may now put this out of your mind.’ Barrett bowed deeply. He smiled inwardly. Apologising first was always the best move. He knew it impressed women.

  ‘We shall work together,’ Martil agreed quickly. He had no intention of letting Barrett take the moral high ground.

  ‘Then let us hear no more about it.’

  Martil knew that Barrett had been in love with her for years, although she either did not realise, or did not want to encourage or return those feelings. Martil hoped it was the latter. Now he wanted to be close to her, to win her approval, and, thanks to the Dragon Sword, he was in the ideal position. Sometimes he found himself wishing this training would go on forever.

  The next day, everything changed.

  Barrett and Karia had been talking to the birds, asking them to search for different items—and one came back with news that an army was marching towards Sendric. More birds were despatched to look, while two of the trusted militiamen slipped back into Sendric to find out what was happening there.

  The news they returned with was both worrying and interesting. A force of five hundred cavalrymen had arrived, led by a Captain Havrick. Martil had not wanted to believe the coincidence, but when they reported the man had a broken nose, he had to believe the man had been sent north deliberately.

  Together with the three hundred infantry that was the town’s garrison, they were to search the area and hunt down the rebels. Eight hundred men, including two hundred heavy cavalry, was a powerful force. The entire Tetran army would have been hard pressed to defeat it. The council that night in the caves was a grim one.

  ‘What are we to do?’ Merren asked, not in despair, but in a genuine query.

  ‘Obviously we are not going to challenge them in the open. What we are going to do is make them look foolish. Gello has done exactly what I hoped he would.’ Martil smiled at the looks on their faces and continued: ‘He has sent too many men, under an inexperienced commander. I saw the way Havrick looks after his men and horses. He doesn’t. So, we should try to keep them in the field as long as possible. Soon they are going to be short of food, because eight hundred men, and particularly five hundred horses, take a great deal of supplying. They are going to have lame horses pretty soon, and hungry men. They will probably start stealing food from the local farms, which will encourage the farmers to help us. Meanwhile, we’ll be attacking their supply columns. Then the weather will start getting colder; there will be more rain. Men and beasts will start getting sick. Soon enough we’ll be cutting them down to size. Now, they are a proud, well-equipped force that will take on anything. In a few months’ time, they will be at our mercy. And we will start with the supply column they must have following them.’

  ‘Won’t they have had one with them?’ Barrett ask
ed.

  ‘Too big. It will be a day or so behind by now. It’ll be guarded, because it’s stuffed full of armour and food. But with surprise, we can take it for ourselves. With food and arms, we’ll be halfway towards victory.’

  Merren smiled broadly. ‘Then it will be our first strike against Gello! And not before time!’

  Sendric spread a map of the area on the table and Conal leant over to mark the ideal ambush spot, where the road passed beneath a ridge.

  ‘There are a few other spots, but nowhere puts them more vulnerable,’ he declared. ‘It is also reasonably close to the forest. There is one spot closer still, but we will not have nearly as much protection or surprise for an ambush.’

  ‘I want to see the squad leaders,’ Merren declared.

  Martil was a little nervous about this, after the way she had torn strips off their families, but she was the Queen and they were fighting for her, so the men were sent for. The three squad leaders filed in. Rocus was the first, as Martil had known he would be. Tall, fair-haired, with a square jaw and blue eyes, he was the perfect embodiment of the saga hero. Unfortunately, he was also stubborn, and Martil had caught him numerous times admiring himself in the reflection from his own helmet. He was brave enough, but Martil could not yet trust him not to do something foolish.

  Tarik was lean, but with the huge arms and chest of a bowman. His face was burnt brown by the sun and he was reluctant to smile or even speak. But he was steady, sensible and would carry out his tasks no matter what faced him. Already Martil trusted him.

  Wime had spent twenty years on the streets, and it showed. Even a town like Sendric had its share of murderers and thieves, as well as men willing to fight after a few drinks. He had a scar down his cheek, courtesy of a broken bottle, and his hair was receding. He was dependable, could lead his men well, and did not lose concentration during a fight.

  Martil explained their roles, how the double lines of Rocus’s guardsmen would make the supply column’s escort charge, then the archers could turn that charge into wreckage and the militia would come in and clean up.

  ‘We’re going to need to either destroy or get as much of those supplies back here as we can,’ he told them. ‘We must secure those wagons. Havrick must not get anything he needs.’

  ‘How are we going to get them back through the woods without leaving a trail a blind man could follow?’ Tarik grunted.

  ‘You’ll have some help there,’ Barrett said confidently.

  ‘I have to admit I don’t like the idea much. I have always been sworn to the idea of stamping out banditry and thievery,’ Rocus rumbled.

  ‘Don’t worry, you won’t be doing any thievery. And if you feel that bad, we can make sure you don’t eat any of the supplies we take,’ Conal offered, winking at Martil.

  Rocus just stared at him, unsure whether the old bandit was joking or serious.

  ‘Well, we are all sworn to the idea of stamping out Gello. Tomorrow we start. I want to hear about our first victory.’ Merren clapped her hands, and the council was done.

  ‘Tonight, tell your men to eat well and spend time with their families,’ Martil told the three squad leaders and, deciding to take his own advice, sat with Karia, talking about her new magic abilities and the little house she had built for her dolls out of wood and stones.

  ‘Can I come tomorrow? I can help!’ Karia asked.

  ‘I’m afraid not. It might be dangerous for you,’ Martil said gently.

  ‘Why?’

  Martil found himself considering this carefully. He did not want to alarm her, but neither did he want her to come along to an ambush where men would die.

  ‘There’s some bad men who we are going to attack. People will be hurt.’

  ‘I can protect you! I know how Barrett protected his skin, and I can do it for you!’

  Martil was a little hesitant about walking around looking as though he was made of wood.

  ‘Why don’t we get you some milk, and I’ll read you a story?’ he changed the subject hastily. The camp had a handful of goats, who supplied fresh milk every day. As the War Captain, he was able to ensure one cup of milk was kept for Karia. So he read her a story but she was not willing to go to sleep yet.

  ‘Who will look after me while you and Barrett are gone?’ she asked.

  Martil was stumped. This had never been a problem for him before. ‘How about you stay with some of the other mothers?’

  Karia made a face. Staying here was not something she wanted. She knew she could help Martil. But how to get him to take her along? Then she smiled. Of course! Demand to stay with someone who would not want to look after her.

  ‘I’ll stay with Merren, or nobody,’ she announced. ‘Either she looks after me or I’ll follow you.’

  Martil looked at her carefully. ‘You want to stay with Merren? Why?’

  Karia thought quickly. ‘She said I could be a princess. I want to start learning how.’

  Martil strongly suspected he was being played for a fool, but he also recognised the look in her eye and the determined set to her jaw. At least he could eliminate Merren as a prospect, he thought. ‘I’ll ask her,’ he agreed.

  ‘Good. Now can you sing me to sleep?’

  He sang until he was sure she was asleep, then he blew her a kiss and slipped out of her sleeping alcove. The caves had been further divided by hanging blankets as curtains. He let the blanket fall, cutting her off from the rest of the cave, then went to find Merren.

  Count Sendric had managed to get tally scrolls for several of the gold mines from his country house, and Merren knew she was supposed to be looking over them, trying to assess how much money they might be able to get from those mines. Buying arms and armour could be a solution to their supply shortage. But she was unable to concentrate properly. These past few days had been particularly frustrating. At first she had been happy enough with progress but now she felt things were going too slowly. Gello was obviously cementing his rule over Norstalos and what was she doing? Watching a handful of men train! It was not being able to do anything to speed the process that she felt most infuriating. She was reliant on Martil, Barrett, Conal and Sendric to do the work for her. That was galling enough in itself but the real frustration was the sense that nothing had changed. Back at the palace she had been effectively powerless, kept so by Gello’s political manoeuvrings. Here she had supporters, but still no power. It was driving her crazy. She wanted to raise a massive army and sweep Gello out of the country, wreaking revenge for what he had done to her friends. But all because the stupid bloody dragons and her idiot ancestor King Riel hadn’t thought to make a Dragon Sword that could be used by a woman, she couldn’t do it. She wanted to drive Gello off the throne but instead she sat in a cave and received regular reports on not very much.

  She threw down the tally scrolls in disgust. Yelling at Martil and Barrett relieved some of the frustration but ultimately did nothing to advance her cause. It was the sort of approach that had created problems with her nobles. They had defied her, they had cheated the people, they had even hired Lahra to perform at their parties so they could mock her, but if she shouted at them they sulked and turned into supporters of Gello.

  She knew she would make a good ruler. She had so many hopes and ideas for the country, which would make it better, if only she could find the way to work with men. They were the real problem, she reflected. A king could swear at them, hit them and order them into exile and just be seen as a strong leader. If she did it, she was a cold-hearted bitch. Ultimately, they thought she was there just to produce an heir. She wanted to change that; there was so much she wanted to change, yet she felt like she was trapped, sinking deeper into the same mess that had mired her during her rule. There had to be a way to change!

  The sound of Martil clearing his throat brought her back from her musings.

  ‘What is it, Captain?’ she asked sharply, then kicked herself for falling into that habit again.

  ‘Merren, I need to ask your help.’ He sat down o
pposite her. ‘Karia has asked if you can take care of her while I am away. I don’t know why she did so—it might have been because she wants to come on the raid with us—and I know you will be busy…’

  Merren considered that. Busy all right. Busy doing nothing useful and worrying that she was just some kind of figurehead. Her first instinct was to refuse—she had had nothing to do with children until now and her intention was to keep it that way—then she thought again. Something within her was saying this could be a good idea. That at least she would be doing something more interesting than analysing tally sheets and trying to avoid thinking about her dead friends.

  She nodded. ‘Of course I shall watch over her. I shall begin to teach her how to be a lady, for when she is at court.’

  Martil was surprised at her acceptance but it did solve a problem, so he smiled. ‘Thank you. I shall tell Karia you will watch her until I return.’

  Merren watched him go, wondering if she had made a mistake. Still, it couldn’t be worse than reading tally sheets—could it?

  15

  Martil looked over the captured convoy with satisfaction. The convoy was impressively large, more than a score of heavily-laden wagons, which had had a corresponding number of light cavalry as escort. It had all gone to plan. The cavalry had been talking amongst themselves, looking around and generally behaving as if they were out for a gentle ride. After a handful of horses had been brought down by Barrett’s magical trick with the sticks, the rest of them were slaughtered by Tarik’s archers, and the militia and guardsmen went in to take care of the wagoners and clean up the troopers.