Torbrek...and the Dragon Variation (The Torbrek Trilogy)

by Lexi Revellian

  Gwenderith turned away, disconcerted. “You should not say such things, Edric. Barlanik and I are not suited.”

  “Come on Gwen, you don’t have to be discreet with me, even if he hasn’t quite popped the question; it’s just a matter of time, surely.”

  “Truly, Edric, there is nothing between us.”

  “But you sounded so keen on him in your letters. In every one of them, it was Barlanik said this, or did that, or how everyone thought such a lot of him. Father was pleased. We at home all thought it wouldn’t be long till we’d be forking out for the wedding presents.”

  Gwenderith wished the subject had not come up so soon. She had not realized she had said so much in her letters. She spoke lightly, trying to sound indifferent and amused. “Well, you were all wrong. You shouldn’t let your imaginations run away with you. I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with your sister at home a little longer.” She picked up her embroidery and stared at it. “Barlanik won’t be marrying me.” Her voice quavered on the last words in spite of herself. She could feel the tears welling up. As long as Edric did not notice and say anything sympathetic, she’d be all right…

  Edric put his arm round her. “Gwenny, what’s the matter? Tell your little brother all about it.” She struggled for a moment, then burst into tears, dropped the embroidery frame and sobbed on his shoulder. He patted her and frowned. “What’s Barlanik been doing?”

  Gwenderith spoke between sobs. “Nothing, it’s not his fault, he doesn’t even know, but it’s true, I did love him…you mustn’t tell anyone. He doesn’t know that I love him, he was always so busy, he never had time for me, and then,” her tears redoubled, “I found out he loves someone else, and I didn’t know…I want to go home!” she wailed.

  “Who is it? There’s hardly any women in the camp. Only servants.” Edric frowned again. “It can’t be that girl dressed as a soldier, surely? The Dragon Master? It is, isn’t it? He’s gone out of his mind. How can he prefer her to you?”

  “It doesn’t matter who it is.”

  Edric’s face reddened. How dare that man upset his sister like this? He must have done something – trifled with her in some way. She was too sweet natured to complain. “I’m going to have a word with Barlanik.”

  Gwenderith looked appalled. “No, Edric, you mustn’t! He’s not at all to blame, it was just me being silly. He doesn’t know how I feel, it would be too humiliating if you told him. I’ll get over it. You must promise me you won’t say anything. I couldn’t bear it if he knew.”

  Gwenderith’s anxious tear-stained face looked imploringly up at him, and, reluctantly, Edric promised.

  Barlanik opened the meeting with a summary of their situation, for Edric’s benefit. Edric sat back in his chair with his arms folded.

  “We made sweeping gains through Calambria initially, because surprise was on our side and the populace behind us. We have always known that for the final push against Tarragon we would need reinforcements. Urquin was in full agreement about this. Now Skardroft is getting his act together and we risk losing everything we’ve accomplished so far. Either we move forward or we get beaten back. We needed your army a month ago, Edric, and I don’t understand why it isn’t here.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you do,” said Edric. His tone was rude, and the others looked at him in surprise. “Getting an army together isn’t just a case of rounding up soldiers and throwing money at them, you know.” He gave a patronizing laugh. “There’s a great deal of work involved. You have to put a lot of effort into training them so that they work well under you, and it can’t be rushed.”

  Kerris stirred. “Barlanik’s been a mercenary Commander for over ten years. Are you saying you know better than he does?”

  Edric ignored him. Barlanik said calmly, “But I’m sure you must have got them into shape by now. After all, their captains will get them to do anything you want, it’s what they are there for. Any rough edges can be dealt with in the field.”

  “Yes, I’m fairly satisfied with the improvements I’ve made. They’re pretty much up to the standard I expect. I’m not entirely convinced, though, that the situation here is as dire as you make it out to be. Before I bring my troops, I’ve a mind to sort out the border dispute on our northern boundary. It shouldn’t take long, and it’s a chance that may not come again. I could bring the army on here afterwards.”

  Barlanik stared at him. “You cannot be serious?”

  Edric bristled. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am. You seem to be managing all right here, in spite of what you say. I don’t see why you can’t hang on a little longer. You must have plenty of soldiers here already. We’re certainly sending you enough money for them, assuming that’s what you’ve been spending it on.”

  There was an audible intake of breath from Kerris. Barlanik said patiently, sticking to the main point and disregarding Edric’s absurd slur on his integrity, “Skardroft holds power with a massive standing army. He is ruthless and determined. We’ve only maintained our position in the past weeks because we’ve had a dragon fighting on our side, but he is now injured and out of action. If we don’t get support very soon, Urquin won’t have a kingdom, let alone a boundary.”

  “So you say. I don’t happen to agree with you, I’m afraid.”

  Barlanik could not understand why Edric was being so hostile. When they had last met at Garock Holt they had got on well enough; Edric had seemed, if anything, to look up to him. Before this meeting, he had assumed that the hold-up had been caused by Edric in his inexperience fussing over inessentials, and thought he just needed support and encouragement. Had he been tactless with the boy and rubbed him up the wrong way, had his opening remarks about Edric’s delay been too brusque? The turn the meeting had taken was disastrous. After all, they were supposed to be working together for a common cause. Edric did not seem to realize what was at stake. Barlanik tried again. “Have you discussed tackling the border dispute with your father?”

  “No, but I’m confident he’ll agree with me. I shall talk to him as soon as I get back.”

  “Edric, I am not being alarmist when I say that there is a real possibility that we could lose this war. You and your father could remain exiles for ever, or even be hunted down and assassinated. Make no mistake, it could happen. Skardroft’s advantage in numbers is too great for us to do anything without reinforcements. Your army is essential for our side to win.”

  Edric stood up. “I have every confidence in your ability to cope.” He made this sound insulting. “I’m sure you’ll muddle through somehow. I’m going, I can’t sit around here all day talking. Some of us have work to do.”

  He left the room. Barlanik and Kerris looked at each other.

  “The little prat,” said Kerris. “What does he think he’s playing at?”

  “Something’s got into him today. I don’t know why he was so antagonistic. I haven’t seen him like that before.” Barlanik reached for a quill and paper. “I’ll write to Urquin and tell him we’ve got to have the troops now, and hope he’s well enough to overrule Edric. He’s not a fool. You were right, I should have done it weeks ago.”

  “It makes you wonder whether Skardroft hasn’t got a point. What sort of a King is Edric going to be when it’s his turn? You were more patient than I’d have been with the little tick.”

  “We need the little tick’s army.” Barlanik’s pen moved over the paper.

  “You won’t be asking Edric to take the letter?”

  “No, I’ll ask Gwenderith. She’s reliable. She’s got a lot more sense than her brother, though I’m not sure if she realizes it.”

  Edric strode to Gwenderith’s rooms.

  “Come Gwen, we’re leaving.”

  She looked at him apprehensively, noting the flush on his face. “You haven’t quarrelled with Barlanik?”

  “No, just done a bit of straight talking, let him know my position. I don’t think people stand up to him very often. He’s too used to getting his own way; father’s been too accommodating.
He needs taking down a peg or two. Don’t worry, your name wasn’t mentioned.”

  Gwenderith was not reassured. Edric was so young and he tended to be headstrong; he could be quite stubborn at times and if his opinion and Barlanik’s differed, Edric was probably in the wrong. It was her fault, making him angry with Barlanik.

  Edric told the servants to pack and get ready immediately, and sent to tell his men to get their horses, since he would not be staying overnight as originally planned. They were waiting to go in fifteen minutes. Edric walked Gwenderith to her carriage, and mounted his horse. Barlanik came out and went up to the window of the carriage and leaned in. As so often when with the Princess, he was kind but preoccupied.

  “We’ll miss you, Gwenderith, though I’m sure your parents will be pleased to have you home at last. Would you give this letter to Urquin for me with my regards?”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you for your hospitality, Barlanik.”

  As the carriage moved off, Gwenderith watched him turn and walk slowly away until she could see him no more. He hadn’t stayed to watch her go. She looked at his black, spiky writing on the folded letter, sealed with a leopard seal, familiar to her from one or two notes he had sent her that she had kept. Putting the letter safely into her pocket, she retreated into the corner away from the window.

  She began to cry into Muffin’s warm silky fur, quietly so that the servants sitting outside would not hear her.

  Tor heard the news about Edric’s refusal to bring his army to help without delay, and could see that Barlanik thought it serious, possibly catastrophic. It made her recent embarrassment with him seem foolish and irrelevant, and she resolved to get a grip on herself. She was a Knight, not a silly adolescent.

  For the first time, it occurred to her that without more troops or Xantilor the loyalists were likely to lose the war, just as Skardroft had told her they would. Ominously, in the circumstances, the attacks on their strongholds had lessened, and they were not called out to fight several times a day as they had lately got used to. Tor had an uneasy feeling that Skardroft was massing his troops for an all-out assault on Kallarven Castle, the final crushing move in his campaign against them. The whole camp had a strange, waiting feeling to it. There was something Tor had to do.

  Pom was cleaning armour. Tor went and sat beside him. He looked up and said, “I’ve got a joke. Why do dragons sleep during the day?”

  “Umm…I don’t know. Why do dragons sleep during the day?”

  “So they can fight knights.”

  Tor grinned. Without missing a beat, she said, “Why didn’t the dragon fight?”

  Pom concentrated. “Because it was his knight off!”

  Tor laughed, then picked up a dagger and tried it against her thumb. “Good edge,” she said. She knew Pom would not like what she had come to say. No point putting it off. “Pom, you’ve got to go home.”

  “Why?” The cloth he was holding stopped moving, and hovered over the helmet in his lap.

  “Skardroft’s army could be here any day. I don’t want you caught up in the siege. You’ll be safer in the forest with your mother.”

  “I don’t care about that. Let me stay here.”

  “No.”

  “But I can help you…”

  “No. I mean it, Pom, I’m serious, I won’t have you here. You’ve been very useful, but I don’t want to have to worry about you if the worst comes to the worst. If we win, you can come back.” We won’t win…

  He looked as if he might cry. “Please. If I was your squire you’d let me stay.”

  Tor put an awkward arm round his thin shoulders. She had got fond of him, she realized, in the past few weeks. She did not expect to see him again after he left. Oh, what does it matter…“Tell you what, if you go now, like I say, and we win, I’ll make you my squire.”

  He looked at her with shining eyes. “Do you mean it? Honestly?”

  She nodded, feeling she was cheating him.

  “All right. I’ll go and say goodbye to Xantilor.”

  Xantilor listened gravely while Pom told him that he was going now, but that when he came back, Tor had said he could be her squire.

  “You are young, Pomfret, and perhaps I should not be telling you this. But I believe you have a right to know. Our situation here is more desperate than you think; our days are numbered; if Tor survives the coming battle she will be in Skardroft’s power once more, and he is not likely to let her have a squire.”

  “Then I won’t go, she needs my help.”

  “She has told you to go, and you must do as she says.”

  Pom thought hard. There must be something he could do…he had an inspiration. “You know the Knights at Atherly Berrow? I know they’re not there any more, but they must have gone somewhere. I shall go and find them, and get them to come and help.”

  “That is a difficult quest. Many people have looked for the last of the Hundred Knights, and no one has succeeded in finding them. But you have thought of one of the few possible ways of saving the campaign from failure, and I am not going to discourage you from the attempt. You are a resourceful boy. Remember that Atherly Berrow is now one of Skardroft’s strongholds. Let me give you gold for the journey.”

  “I’ve been saving my wages, I’ll be okay. I’ll set off straight away. I hope your wing gets better quickly, Xantilor. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Good luck, Pomfret.”

  Pom waved goodbye. He left by the side gate, and made his way towards the forest, formulating a plan of action as he went. He would tell his mother he had to stay at the Castle so she would not fuss and worry. There was a carter he knew who regularly took logs to a timber yard near Atherly Berrow, and he would ask him for a lift.

  Someone at Atherly Berrow must know where the Knights had gone, and he would keep asking until he found them. In his short life so far, Pom had discovered that persistence usually paid off.

  CHAPTER 21

  Kidnap

  The Princess’s party moved slowly through the forest in the warm light of late afternoon. The journey’s monotony was affecting all of them. Being jolted around for hours in the carriage was not comfortable for Gwenderith, particularly as her thoughts were not happy ones and were going round her head in a dismal and tedious loop. As well as her personal misery, she now worried that she had caused a rift between Edric and Barlanik. She wished Edric had not found out her secret, and blamed herself for telling him. She longed for the journey to be over so she could be home once more, when she planned to go to bed, draw the curtains round it and sleep for as long as possible.

  Edric and his guards were bored with keeping to the roads for the sake of the carriage, when paths through the forest would have been quicker. It also forced them to go at a slower pace than they would otherwise have done. They began to canter ahead so that they could have informal archery contests while the Princess and her entourage were catching them up, forgetting that they were supposed to be protecting her.

  The carriage came to a sudden stop, so that Gwenderith, dozing in her corner, nearly fell off the seat. Some sort of a scuffle was going on outside. She leaned forward to look out of the window, and found herself face to face with an unknown, villainous-looking man. He had a rough black beard, a gap-toothed grin and a four-inch scar across his cheek. He might as well have worn a label saying “bandit”, it was so obvious that was what he was.

  Gwenderith shrank back. “Do you want my jewellery?” If she gave him her jewels, perhaps he would go away.

  “I want you, Princess,” he said with a leer, “though since you’re offering, I’ll take the jewels as well.”

  She gave him a terrified look, and drew breath to scream. His expression became pained. “No, no, don’t do that,” he said, “it goes right through my head, and what’s the point? There isn’t anyone here except ourselves, because that’s the way I planned it. Be sensible, there’s a good girl.”

  Gwenderith decided not to scream. The man looked relieved. “We won’t bother
with my name; I would introduce myself, but I think that might be injudicious.” He gave a broad wink. “Of course, I know who you are, Princess. King Urquin’s only daughter.” He said this with satisfaction, taking off his hat and giving a travesty of a formal bow. “You’ll be wondering, I dare say, what we want with you. Well, we figure that someone is going to miss you enough to pay us good money for you. We thought we’d try your father first. I don’t want to sell you back to Skardroft unless I have to, but I don’t expect it’ll come to that. You behave yourself and we’ll all get what we want; you’ll get back to those who love you, complete with little dog, and we’ll be that much better off. A simple business arrangement. So why don’t we agree not to give each other a hard time? No screaming. Keep it nice and civilized.”

  “You will not harm my servants?”

  “Why would I do that? Don’t you fret yourself, Princess. We won’t be hurting the horses, either, in fact we’ll be taking good care of them ourselves.”

  He opened the carriage door. She stepped out and saw her two manservants gagged and tied up back to back on the ground. A short bandit was tying up the maids in the same way. A third man was cutting the harness of the two carriage horses and attaching ropes to their bridles. Within minutes of their appearance, the brigands were on their horses, with Gwenderith riding pillion behind the leader, and the three stolen horses following behind. They disappeared into the surrounding forest, and when ten minutes later an irritable Edric retraced his steps to see what was keeping his sister, there was nothing to indicate which way they had gone.

  Gwenderith had never been inside a hovel before. She had sometimes wondered how poor people lived, and whether perhaps they were able to make their homes quite snug, or if they were as depressing inside as out. This particular hovel was worse than she could have imagined before she saw it. By the light of a candle stub in a bottle she saw that under a low ceiling the walls were dark with dirt; the bed was a palliasse, some of its straw spilling out on the trodden earth floor, with a filthy blanket on it. You could get splinters from the table, and it was greasy and sticky from past meals. To sit on, there was a rough three-legged stool. The window had a shutter but no glass. A pervasive sour smell caught at the throat.