by Andrew Wood
Outside New Easton, the young Prince Sethin of Corlan slowly trotted his horse out of the city gates. Flanked by troops of the Royal guard, he headed for the camp to the south. Rows upon rows of small white tents, all pitched with military precision had been home to the thousands of soldiers currently camped there. It had been given as Sethin's task to give the order for some of them to move out. Not north as many of them would be expecting, but south to the border of Murati, to help counter a potential new threat.
The young prince was dressed in full uniform, and carried his sword at his side. With two of his banner men leading him on, he felt a few nerves as he rode. This would be the first time he had been trusted to carry out such an important task. He had wanted to do this, and knew that he would have to carry out such tasks if he was ever to be a good king like his father. Puffing out his cheeks, the group slowed to a trot as they neared the outskirts of the camp.
The prince's arrival appeared to cause the officers in charge some considerable panic. They, after all, had not been expecting a visit from one of the royal family members. They were hastily ordering the troops, both made up from regulars and reservists, into ranks. Sethin steadied his horse as he watched on from the sidelines, his banner men aside him. He patted the creature on the neck, as it appeared to get bored of standing still.
Over fifteen minutes had passed, and though Sethin did not mind the wait, he was a little annoyed. The time it had taken for the soldiers to prepare and line up had only meant more time to get nervous. The commanding officer walked with purpose to where he waited. After bowing his head, he informed Sethin the troops were ready. "Thank you Commander," the prince said, nudging his horse forward at a slow walk.
Sethin walked his horse along the front line, looking at the faces of the men he was sending to a possible war. He wondered just how many of these faces would he be sending to their deaths. This had been something he had discussed with his father. This was something he was told would probably play on his conscience. Yet each man was to do his duty, whether that man was a mere farmer or a prince of the realm.
Moving back to the front centre of the ranks, Sethin estimated well over two thousand men stood before him. His father had requested that only a thousand move south to the border of Murati. There were archers, infantry and cavalrymen, though the latter were currently on foot not their mounts, and still many more, which were still in the camp that had not been requested to join the ranks. Sethin took a deep breath and started his talk. "Soldiers of Corlan," he shouted as loud as he could so all could hear him. "A new threat is coming, but not from the north as we had expected. My father has requested a number of you be sent south to counter this new enemy." The words flowed smoothly and once he had finished the troops gave a loud cheer as he turned his away. Feeling a lump in his throat, he felt a pride he had not felt before. As he trotted his mount away, his banner men fell in beside him, and the rest of his accompanying troops did likewise.
Luca watched with interest as the barge they were travelling on came to rest against the dock. The ropes were cast ashore by the crew and the vessel was moored up. It was not long before they were ready to disembark across the narrow walkway. The group walked quickly along the wooden dock area, moving around to the much larger sea faring vessel that awaited them. Luca was always impressed by the sight of such craft. With three large masts, he could tell this was a ship made for long journeys. Although, the one they were making he hoped, would take no more than a few days; much less, if the idea he had been considering worked.
The ship was already loaded and awaiting their arrival, and so was ready to sail almost immediately. The huge white sails were lowered and Luca watched in awe as the wind filled them and the huge wooden vessel moved further away from the land. Once they were a little more into open water, he would ask the captain of the ship, if he could try out his idea. He had not run the plan past Darak, knowing he would only object. Luca had made a decision in his mind that keeping his magic a secret was no longer the big deal it had been. True it may mean the enemy would learn of his identity, and true they may try to kill him. On the other hand, it was clear that this Dalia was almost correct in her assumption, just unfortunate to have witnessed Hope using magic rather than him. The number of people who knew about his rather unique abilities was increasing daily; he thought a few more would not matter.
After a lengthy talk with the ship's captain, Luca, with Oliver at his side as always, stood amidships with his hands held out. Manipulating the air was not a skill he had practiced as much as the others, but he felt confident none the less. He could see Darak in the corner of his eye walking hastily towards him, and so decided to have it out with his adoptive father now, rather than later. "What do you think you are doing Luca?" he shouted as he approached. Luca sighed, and was a little surprised when Oliver stepped between the two of them. The young Darekian must have thought Darak's approach a threatening one. "Step aside Oliver; let me talk sense into my son."
The Darekian stood his ground, and it was only the intervention of Taylor, that stopped a possible conflict from occurring. It was clear Darak was annoyed that Luca had not so much as consulted him. "Darak, I can do this. Only the crew will see it. The captain assures me they are all good trustworthy men. More importantly, we get to Hope much quicker than we would normally." Luca placed a hand on Oliver's shoulder, "It is okay my friend, you can stand down."
The young Darekian looked at Luca, and nodded slightly, before doing as he was asked. "Darak, please, I know you are only trying to protect me, but I am doing this with or without your approval." Darak stared at Luca, and after a few seconds silence, turned away. "Leave him to me," Taylor said, "You do what you need to do Luca." Luca watched as Darak walked off and Taylor quickly ran after him.
Composing himself, Luca raised his hands once more, and concentrated. He felt the wind pick up, and could see the sails bulging with the extra air being blown into them. "Steady lad," the Captain shouted to him from behind. "Not too much, or you'll rip my sails straight off the masts. Keep it at this and we'll make good time." Luca nodded, and felt in control as the ship moved swiftly, cutting through the waters with ease. Oliver remained at his side, watching, looking as showing an interest in what he was doing.
Luca was not certain how long he would be able to maintain such a steady stream of air. It had already been over half an hour, and aside from his arms aching a little, he felt fine. The captain who had handed the ships wheel to his first mate came over to check on his wellbeing. "Only ever met one man who could do such a thing as that my Lord," the man said standing alongside Luca. "That would have been my father then," Luca replied with a smile on his face. The captain chuckled, "Happen it probably was then. Only met him briefly mind, back when we were rebuilding the docks in New Easton, during the last war."
Luca chatted with the captain for a while, and he found it helped pass the time doing so. "So if you don't mind me asking my Lord, what is it with him?" the man asked nodding his head over to Oliver's direction. Luca looked at his new Darekian friend, who was still stood watching him, and smiled. "Long story Captain and one that is not easy to explain." The man appeared satisfied with the answer, and left his questions about as to why Oliver was constantly as Luca's side, too just that. Even in the short period of time that Luca had been assisting the ship move, the Captain reckoned they had already gained several miles further on than he would have normally expected in good conditions.
Inside one of the ships cabins, Darak slumped into a chair. It was nothing fancy, just a plain wooden affair, and like all of the furniture, was fastened to the floor. Taylor closed the cabin door behind him, and sat in the seat opposite. He knew Darak was angry, and in a way could understand why. Although, he also knew that Luca had a case also, and so it was left to him to play peacemaker. "I feel like I'm losing the boy," Darak said breaking the short silence. "I just do not understand this whole Oliver thing, and now he does the one thing that risks undoing our years of hard work."
> Taylor waited for his adoptive father to stop talking before saying his piece. Darak, he could tell was hurt by the fact Luca did not appear to listen to anything he said anymore. He and Sarena had always done all they could to keep the fact Luca was special, a complete secret. Now it seemed, the boy wanted to announce himself to the world. "Father, you must understand Luca is not a child anymore. The whole Oliver situation is not anything you or I could understand. We don't have a magical link to another person like they do." He paused and waited for his words to sink in. Surprisingly his father just nodded. He had been half expecting some sort of verbal tirade, but it never materialised.
Taylor explained how he thought Luca and Oliver were bound. Just because they were close did not necessarily mean they were anything but friends, and even if they were more than that, it should not matter. Whether his father wanted to hear it or not, Taylor was going to have his say, and so, continued with his talk. The fact that Luca was willing to openly use his magic, if anything, showed he was grown up enough to make the choice. "He is a young man, trying to find his own identity in the world. No matter where he goes from now on he will need our support even more so. Comparisons will always be made to his father, and we both know, those are some pretty big shoes to fill."
Darak nodded again, and Taylor thought he could see tears welling in eyes. That sight made him feel bad, as he thought he was the one that had caused them. He took a deep breath and felt composed enough that he was not going to do likewise. "I know I'm not your real father Taylor, nor Luca or Hope's, but I love you all as if you were my own," Darak said placing a hand forward on to Taylors. The composure he had felt just a few seconds earlier soon evaporated as the words hit him hard. "And we all love you as a real father," he replied feeling his own eyes welling up. "You are not losing Luca; he is just a confused young man. His life is changing so fast at the moment. He needs our support Darak, yours most of all."
Darak wiped away a tear from his cheek, and looked Taylor in the eye. "You've grown up to be a fine man Taylor. I find it hard to let Luca go. I promised Sarena that I would protect him, but I guess I am powerless to do so." Taylor shook his head, "No, we can still look out for him, guide him where we can. But in the end he must decide on which path through life he takes, not us."
After an hour of soul searching, Darak finally felt right enough to once more go out on deck. As soon as he left the relative warmth of the cabin, he could feel how strong the wind was blowing. He looked across to see Luca still standing with his hands up, still forcing the air into the massive sails. He supposed it was quite an amazing thing to behold when you actually thought about it. That theory was confirmed by a number of the crew stood watching off to one side. Technically, there was nothing to see, other than a young man standing in the middle of the ship. What he was doing however, was something few of them had ever thought possible. It was noticing the look on those sailor's faces that persuaded Darak, that perhaps Luca was right after all. Not only that, he felt a bursting pride within, that this was a young man he had helped, guided and brought up as his own son. Perhaps Taylor was right he mused, Luca was not a young boy anymore that needed telling what to do, but a young man that needed support in what he did.
Chapter 15.
Jamal, sweat dripping from his brow, jogged up to the southern gates of Onay. He had lost count of how many hours he had run; all he knew was how much he hurt. The news he carried was urgent, and he was aware getting it to the right person was paramount. It would be of no use him telling the two rather bored looking guards on gate duty, so he ignored their looks as he passed into the city.
He supposed ideally, he should seek out the prince. At least that would ensure his information would be acted upon. He ran his arm across his forehead, wiping the sweat that was running into, and stinging his eyes. He could feel the colder air as he ran under the gate archway, and thought how it would be nice to stand there for a while to cool off. Pushing himself out onto the main street, where the heat once more beat down upon him, he stopped to gather his bearings.
The wide streets were bustling with people going about their business without so much as a clue as to what was likely heading their way. He slowed to a walk, as his lungs gasped for air, and his muscles in his legs started cramping. Having come this far, he was not going to rest now. He did however briefly stop off at one of the cities fountains. Here he cupped his hands into the flowing waters, and splashed his face before taking onboard some much needed fluid. He was amazed at just how good that short drink break felt, and now felt ready and able, to complete his task.
He continued on the main thoroughfare, knowing it would take him up to the palace gates. As was the norm, they were closed and guarded. Jamal walked casually up to one of the guards, and explained where he was from. After realising that did not seem to make any impression on the man, he decided to tell him he needed to speak to the prince. The news he was carrying was very important. The guard looked at him, "Go away boy, go join the other recruits back at the garrison." Jamal tried to step around him, but only found himself shoved back. "Go back to the garrison, before I get you arrested boy," the guard snapped, clearly getting annoyed by Jamal's presence.
Knowing that being arrested was not going to help him achieve his goals, he did as was requested, and headed for the city garrison. At least he would probably find it easier to speak to someone with a little authority. His only problem now was finding the place in such a wide spread out city. With so many streets each looking as identical as the last, he looked for some landmarks that may give him some indication. He was familiar with many parts of the city; it was just remembering which roads linked in to which sections. The layout of the place was such that it was not easy for anybody to navigate easily.
As luck would have it, he spotted a group of recruits marching up a long street, and he knew then that he was on the right track. They had probably been out on some training exercise, and were returning to the garrison barracks. He looked at the man leading them, and decided he was not of high enough rank to help. Being nothing more than a recruit himself, he knew telling a squad leader would not help his cause.
The entrance to the garrison was open, although two guards were posted at the gates. Being as he was dressed similarly to other recruits, they had no reason to stop him, and so he passed through unhindered. He headed straight for the offices of the commanders, thinking of how he was going to explain what had happened in Ari.
Crossing the parade yard, he headed for what he knew to be one of the commander's offices, recognisable by the Brigade insignia above the entrance. He knocked on the door and it was answered by a middle-aged man in military uniform. The man looked at him, clearly not best pleased he had been disturbed. "What do you want?" he snapped, causing Jamal to get his words in muddle. The man went to slam the door, but Jamal had had enough of being rebuked, and shoved it back open.
It was clear the man was shocked by Jamal's actions, and was stunned into silence. With a newfound sense of purpose, the young Murati pushed his way into the office. "I need to speak with the commander of this base now!" he said in as firm a voice as he could muster. "You will pay for your subordinate behaviour you little runt," the man shouted. Jamal knew this man was probably only the commander's personal clerk, and a jumped up one at that. Although it was clear that he might only be a glorified scribe, it was also clear he held the higher rank. His actions would probably earn him a flogging, but he knew there was no going back now.
Jamal looked ahead at another door, "Is he in there?" he said, deciding he was going that way whatever the reply. The man tried to bar his way, and a scuffle ensued. "What the bloody hell is going on?" came a very loud voice from the now open doorway. Jamal and the man pulled apart from each other. "This little worm was trying to force his way into your office Sir. I shall have him arrested and flogged immediately." Jamal could not help but be intimidated by the sheer size of the man stepping into the room. He looked at Jamal, clearly puzzled as to why a recruit would
be attempting to barge his way in. "Is this true?" he asked aiming the question in Jamal's direction. "Yes Sir. Although it is a matter of life and death that I need to speak with you. Only this pen pushing office clerk would not so much as let me through the door."
"I am a soldier, not an office clerk," the man shouted back, defending his position. "You sit at a desk don't you? You write with a pen, and use paper don't you?" Jamal snapped at him. The man nodded. "Well then you're a bloody office clerk," Jamal shouted, realising the hole he was digging for himself was getting deeper by the second. The man appeared completely taken aback by the tirade but Jamal was not letting up now. "I have just run all the way from Ari. The town has been attacked, taken over, and all my fellow soldiers are probably dead," he could not help bursting into tears; such was the emotion of it all. "My Captain and the other men made a last stand so as to allow me to get a warning out to you, and you won't even let me through the bloody door!" With that final outburst, he slumped to his knees, the exhaustion finally overcoming him.
The commander's voice softened, "Come now son, calm down. Rahal, get the lad a drink...oh and I'll have one too." The man was clearly not impressed with his commander siding with Jamal, but accepted the order without argument. "I am Commander Halin of the Onay Garrison," the man placed out a very large hand in greeting. "Jamal, recruit of the Ari Garrison Sir, if there is anything left of it," he replied shaking the commander's hand, before sniffing and wiping his eyes. After being offered a seat in the commander's office, Jamal looked up to see Rahal bringing in a tray with drinks upon it. The man served his senior officer first, before almost slapping down another glass in front of Jamal. To make matters worse between them, Commander Halin then reprimanded Rahal for doing it. "Go sit back at your desk and scribble with your pen," he ordered.
