“This garrison seems uncommonly well-equipped,” Kendryk said. “Most of the others I’ve read reports on aren’t doing so well.”
“Heidenhof is one of the biggest cities in the kingdom.” Schmitt waved Kendryk over to a long bench stacked with helmets. “It’s rich too, and the citizens don’t mind paying for their protection. Though we haven’t been attacked in years, it makes folk happier when the soldiers guarding them wear nice shiny armor with the latest equipment.”
“That’s fortunate,” Kendryk said.
Schmitt selected a helmet and put it on his head. It fit surprisingly well.
He hoped it made him look fierce.
Schmitt led him to other parts of the room, assembling cuirass, pauldrons and gauntlets. She had a good eye, and everything she chose fit Kendryk as if it had been made for him.
Next, she loaded Kendryk up with pistols, a dagger and two swords. “You know how to use these, don’t you?”
Kendryk nodded, hoping he didn’t seem too frightened. The reality of the situation—that he was about to go out and face the duke in what might become a battle—was sinking in. He’d had plenty of practice with weapons, but had never engaged in any combat beyond playing at swords and competing in the occasional tournament. He usually performed well in those, but always suspected it was because his opponents let him win. That he might have to kill or be killed didn’t sit well with him at all.
Trying not to think about it any more, Kendryk followed Schmitt back out to the courtyard where a horse waited for him. Kendryk mounted, putting his weapons where he was able to reach them and looked for Becker.
The Captain was already armored, mounted, and appeared to be waiting only for Kendryk. “Good,” Becker said, after looking him over, “you look a lot tougher now.” He turned toward the soldiers forming up behind them, all of them mounted.
It was dark by now, and every third rider carried a torch, filling the courtyard with light.
“We will split up and go out the north and south gates. The duke is waiting outside the western one, so we’ll catch him from both sides.”
“Will he be expecting us?” Kendryk’s mouth was dry.
“Probably.” Becker sounded far too cheerful. “He’s got people at all the main gates, but we ought to run them off quickly enough. He has less than three hundred troops, while we have over four hundred, once we join up with the Maxima’s guards.”
“Good.” Kendryk hoped he didn’t sound as scared as he felt. “Will I be staying with you?”
“I insist on it.” Becker’s twinkling eyes grew grave. “It’s my personal mission to make sure that no harm comes to you. We want the duke to notice you at the head of our little army, but we don’t want to give him a chance to finish the job.”
Riding at the head of a large troop, hoofs pounding on the cobbled streets, torches blazing, Kendryk’s excitement warred with his fear. It didn’t hurt that people lined the streets, cheering him on. Not only that, somewhere along the way they’d picked up an escort of young men bearing clubs, running alongside the soldiers.
“Will they fight too?” Kendryk asked Becker.
“Why not?” Becker tipped his helmet at one burly specimen, who waved his club over his head and roared before hurrying ahead of them. “It’ll be fun for them, and might help us.”
“They won’t be in the way?”
“Those of us on horseback will leave them behind once we get outside the city. If they can catch up to us, they can help clean up when we’re through with the duke.”
Kendryk admired Becker’s confidence, and wished he had just a little of it. Or even a fraction of what the club-bearers had. He couldn’t imagine what they were thinking, with no armor and no pistols. Would they stand a chance against the duke’s trained guards?
Kendryk gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t give the duke a chance to harm any civilians. He, Becker and the rest would see to that.
Becker led the force leaving out the northern gate, Kendryk at his side. The gate remained closed until Becker gave the order, then its two doors swung open with a great groan.
Kendryk wasn’t sure that he’d ever seen any of the city gates shut before.
“Get ready.” Becker brandished a pistol. “We don’t know what’s out there.”
Kendryk pulled out one of his, wondering if he’d be able to shoot anyone when the time came. He spurred his horse to a trot, trying to keep up with Becker, now clear of the gates.
It was dark outside the city, the moon hidden behind heavy clouds. As more and more troops came up behind them, the torchlight cast a circle around them, though Kendryk couldn’t see what was outside it.
“Looks like no one will bother us here. Let’s hurry,” Becker said. “Our comrades will have come out the south gate by now and I wagered their leader we’d reach the duke before they did.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if we all got there at the same time?” Kendryk asked.
“Bah. Where’s the fun in that?” Becker urged his horse to a faster pace and Kendryk had no choice but to keep up with him.
Heidenhof’s population was large, but inside the walls, the city was compact, with it’s five thousand citizens squeezed into close quarters. So they took only twenty minutes to pass the northern portion of the wall before turning south.
Finally, Kendryk spotted them. Torches in the distance, hundreds of them.
“Steady,” Becker said. “We’ll stay out of musket range for a moment. Do you want to ask him to surrender first?”
Kendryk hadn’t considered that possibility because he was certain the duke wouldn’t surrender. Still, he didn’t want it said he hadn’t given him the chance. “I’ll say a few words.”
He urged his horse forward, and several soldiers bearing torches drew up beside him, Becker a few places away.
“Stop here,” Becker said. “They ought to be close enough to hear you.”
Kendryk took a deep breath, then cleared his throat.
“Is Duke Desmond Balkunus leading you?” he shouted, surprised at how well his voice carried through the cold, still air.
“I’m here,” the duke called back. “Do you want to surrender?”
Kendryk laughed. “This is your only warning. I’m taking back my kingdom. You can leave in peace and return to your estate, or I will remove you by force.”
“Idiot boy. You don’t know when to stop, do you?”
“Seems not.”
That brought a laugh and a small cheer from the troops standing near Kendryk.
“All right then. We’ll do this the hard way.” Kendryk nodded at Becker. Suddenly, he was excited, happy almost. Maybe because he was finally taking on the duke, and doing it as a leader. Sure, he had help, but it had been up to him to gain the support of the populace and the garrison. No one else could have done it for him.
Once he’d seen the duke off, everyone would realize he was able to manage his own affairs.
Becker shouted something military-sounding over his shoulder, then bellowed, “Charge!”
His horse leapt forward, and Kendryk, not following quickly enough, was swept up in the next rank. Two other guards moved into place at his side. Kendryk wondered if Becker had ordered them to keep him out of the fight.
Now they were nearly at a gallop, he hoped their horses wouldn’t stumble in the dark, but no one else seemed too worried about it.
Ahead of him came the pop of musket-fire, but only for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a horse go down, but the rest of them barreled forward.
Kendryk didn’t know when he was supposed to shoot, but from the front rank Becker shouted, “Swords!” so he shoved his pistol into the loop in the saddle and pulled out one of his swords. He couldn’t see anyone, or anything ahead of him.
Muskets fired again, but this time the pops came more unevenly.
Kendryk’s horse halted, almost throwing him out of the saddle. At first he wondered what had happened, but then he realized the front rank was engaging wit
h the enemy, and he was close.
He urged his horse forward, and it took a few cautious steps before stopping again, mostly because there was nowhere to go. The guards stayed by him, their swords drawn.
Torches flared all around, but showed only a shouting, shoving mass of horses and soldiers.
Becker roared as he charged into the enemy, others in the front rank pushing forward.
Kendryk’s hand inside his glove grew sweaty and he grasped the hilt of the sword even tighter, looking everywhere for someone to fight. His guards were so close, he doubted he’d get a chance.
He hoped to spot the duke, though he knew better than to think of taking him on in person. Perhaps Becker could.
The commotion continued for a time, but Kendryk caught only glimpses of the enemy ahead. The mass he was part of surged forward and he stood beside Becker again.
“What happened?” Kendryk asked. “Where’s the duke?”
“Run off.” Becker grinned, wiping a bloody saber on his breeches. “All it took was me and a few of ours cutting them down, and they started thinking twice about fighting back. Didn’t hurt that our other lot showed up from the south right after,” he added. “I still win my wager.”
Kendryk couldn’t believe Becker was thinking about a wager right now. “So they’ve gone? Should we chase them?”
“If you like. Do you reckon he’ll head back to the palace, or maybe the castle?”
“I’m not sure.” Kendryk hadn’t thought that far ahead. “The palace makes sense, though it’s hard to defend. I’d like to stop him getting there, if we can.”
The Terragand Countryside
Becker took off at an easy canter, Kendryk at his side, the rest of the guards close behind.
“We’ll catch up to the duke’s footsoldiers soon,” Becker said. “What should we do with them?”
“Make them captive if they surrender.” Kendryk hoped most of them would. He didn’t want to kill any more people than necessary, Terraganders especially.
It wasn’t long before they came upon soldiers fleeing toward Birkenhof, and none put up a fight when Kendryk’s party overtook them.
He hoped since the duke’s defenses had crumbled so easily, he’d see reason and give up before he lost any more people.
If Kendryk regained possession of his palace, that would do a great deal toward establishing his legitimacy in the eyes of the population. Which was why the duke probably wouldn’t let him have it without a fight.
Becker left Sergeant Schmitt in charge of the captives and called for the rest of the mounted troops to follow him in all haste.
It was dark on the road leading to Birkenhof. “Expect an ambush,” Becker said, pulling out a pistol again.
Now Kendryk was glad for his armor. Desmond was capable of anything and wouldn’t rest until he was dead or captured.
He was certain Desmond would fight to the death, now he had to realize that everyone knew the extent of his guilt. There could be no pardon for plotting murder, and even if there were, Kendryk wasn’t willing to grant it.
“How many soldiers does he still have?” Kendryk asked Becker as they cantered down the road.
Becker had ordered their torches extinguished, reckoning the light would make them appealing targets.
By now, Kendryk’s eyes had adjusted, and he saw the road stretching ahead, a white ribbon flanked by dark clusters of fir trees.
“Not much more than a hundred, judging by how many we captured. We killed or wounded a few dozen as well. I wouldn’t be too surprised if a fair number have disappeared into the countryside. Most soldiers of experience know a losing cause when they see one.”
Kendryk was heartened that Becker considered the duke’s cause lost. He wondered what the duke might do with so few troops remaining. He’d need to get more before he could be a real threat.
“Let’s not let our guard down,” Becker said, “in case the duke has a death wish and tries to ambush us. And we can expect resistance at the palace.”
Another hour brought them to the smaller road leading to the palace, and from here they moved more cautiously.
There’d been no sign of the duke along the way, and no more stragglers. Would he make a stand at the gate, or at the palace itself? It had no defensible position without a thousand troops and some cannon.
As they approached Birkenhof, a half-moon broke free of the clouds, flooding the wide, graceful facade with a pale light. Kendryk wondered if it was a sign sent by the goddess. This was his place after all, even if he didn’t want it.
No one challenged them at the gate. The duke had probably left no one here so he could fortify the building itself. But as they drew closer, there was complete silence. It looked deserted. Where was the duke?
Ignoring Becker’s protests, Kendryk rode up the wide steps to the palace, stopping only at the front door.
“Good evening, Oskar,” he said, recognizing one of the two nervous-looking guards standing in front of the door, halberds thrust out in front of them.
Kendryk dismounted and took a few steps toward the guards. “Is Duke Desmond inside?”
“H-he’s gone to fetch you back, Y-your Grace,” Oskar stammered, the halberd wavering.
“He didn’t succeed. We killed and captured most of his soldiers. Lucky for you, you weren’t there,” Kendryk said with a smile. “Is the duke inside?”
Oskar shook his head, his bewildered face so honest Kendryk believed him.
“We haven’t seen the duke since he left out yesterday.”
Joy mingled with relief, though Kendryk wondered where the duke had gone. But he’d figure that out tomorrow.
He smiled at Oskar. “Now, let me pass, and I might let you keep working for me.”
Oskar gave a panicked glance at the other guard, who shrugged and put down his halberd. “There’s a whole lot of them and only two of us,” he said. “The prince is the rightful owner here, anyway.”
“An excellent point,” Kendryk said. “You are relieved for now. We’ll discuss your new assignments in the morning.”
With that, he walked back into his home.
Kendryk put Becker in charge of security at Birkenhof, and assigned Sergeant Schmitt to lead the city garrison for the time being.
Kendryk sent a message to his mother and Julia back to the city along with the sergeant, asking his mother to return home, if she felt up to it. He also asked for Georg. He’d need good advice to figure out what to do next, but didn’t want to rely too heavily upon Julia.
While Kendryk had wandered the darkened corridors in a daze, hardly daring to find himself home again, unconfined and in charge of his own life, Becker stayed hard at work.
He spread most of his troops around the palace to guard against any surprise attacks, and sent off two scouting parties. One headed to the castle down at the river, in the event the duke was holing up there, the other to the Balkunus estate at Ebenstein, fifty leagues south.
“No one’s at the castle, Your Grace,” Becker said when he reported to Kendryk at breakfast the next morning.
Kendryk had slept well—if not long, for the first time in months—enjoying the knowledge he and his mother were safe, at least for the time being.
“I didn’t expect him to turn up there,” Kendryk said, “though it was a good idea to check. He’d be safe enough, shut up in the castle, but he would be trapped, and run out of food. The place is not provisioned for a siege.”
“I’m sure he’s gone to Ebenstein.” Becker grabbed a roll from a basket on the table with such casual informality that Kendryk couldn’t protest, though he heard a horrified exclamation from the footman behind him.
“You might as well have a seat.” Kendryk grinned. “Pour the captain some coffee,” he said to the footman.
Becker slouched into a chair across from Kendryk.
“What will he do at Ebenstein?” Kendryk asked. “It’s hardly more defensible than Birkenhof, and his ancestral castle is in poor repair.”
“
He won’t try to defend it.” Becker took a long slurp of coffee.
The footman clucked. He’d probably never heard such sounds in this room.
“I don’t understand.” Kendryk was still trying to figure out what resources the duke might have access to. He’d checked the workroom the duke used, and Kendryk’s seal was still there, so he wouldn’t be able to forge documents.
“What he’ll do,” Becker said, “is go on the offensive. Make up a story about you. Folk out in the countryside don’t yet know the truth, and he’ll rally at least some of the aristocracy to his side.”
“Oh gods,” Kendryk said. “I’d hoped to get to them first.”
“You still can. I know you don’t want to leave, but you need to start today, with all the estates in the area. Send messengers out with copies of your speech and that damned contract. They can spread the word more quickly. But when it comes to raising troops, you must do that in person.”
“I don’t know how.” Kendryk missed Julia now.
Becker smiled. “You did it last night. Now you just visit all the estates and give ‘em the same talk. Piece of cake.”
“So what happens if I succeed, and the duke does as well? It’ll mean civil war.” Kendryk wanted to stay in power, but didn’t want to destroy his country while doing so.
“Hard to say who’ll follow him.” Becker shrugged.
“Hard to say who’ll follow me.” Kendryk pushed his plate away, his appetite gone. “I’m still far from a success, I’m afraid.”
“Ah, here’s the Maxima.” Becker jumped to his feet.
Julia swept into the dining room, Georg on her heels.
“Good morning, Your Grace.” She walked around the table to take a seat next to Becker. “Congratulations on your temporary victory.”
“Thank you,” Kendryk said, feeling deflated. “Captain Becker and I were just discussing how temporary it might be. Where’s Mother?”
“It’s best to leave her in town. She’s still frail, and my palace is far safer than yours since we have no idea where the duke is.”
The Forsaken Crown (The Desolate Empire Book 0) Page 16
