Weight of the Crown

by A. C. Cobble

  The two lords, though, had openly committed treason along with Lady Inslie, Lord Dronson, and Lord Avery. They had made their own decisions and had been caught in the act. They couldn’t blame it on simply following orders. Treason had to be punished with the most severe penalty. They had to die publicly.

  “Lords Tand, you’ve been accused of and judged guilty of treason,” called Amelie, a slight push of will sending her voice booming and bouncing around the stone courtyard. “Your sentence is execution by hanging. Do you have anything to say for yourselves?”

  Lord Vikram maintained a stoic expression and stared straight ahead, evidently choosing to die with as much dignity as he could muster.

  His older brother, Lord Tand, shouted loudly, spittle flying from his mouth as he screamed, “I only wish I could be there when Inslie draws the blade across your throat. Your mother betrayed us, and no fruit of her loins deserves to sit upon Issen’s throne!”

  Amelie kept her face blank. She turned to the captain. “Captain Whan, you may proceed.”

  The man nodded and yanked a lever, dropping the floor out from under the two lords. They fell, and two sharp cracks signaled their demise. The bodies dangled from the stout ropes, rocking slowly from the motion of the fall.

  “Good work, captain,” said Amelie, filling the silence of the courtyard.

  She stood to depart, the watching highborn waiting until she disappeared into the keep. Then, they filed out as well, leaving the castle’s guards to clean up the two dead men.

  As Ben marched out of town at the head of five hundred of his elite rangers and swordsmen, he couldn’t help noticing the looks of concern in the faces of the townspeople they passed. It was a different walk than when he’d led the army into the city.

  A tavern owner stood in his doorway, watching the soldiers, a cloth gripped tightly in his hands. A woman left off scolding her children and turned along with the little ones, studying the armed men. A porter, hauling a cart full of burlap bags, rumbled alongside them for a moment and then stopped, setting down his cart and stretching his back. It was as if the sign of men marching to war stole the energy from his stride.

  Beside Ben, Serrot kept pace, as well as Prem, Lloyd, and Commander Rish, the head of the contingent from Venmoor’s rangers.

  Ben forced himself to study their surroundings. They were almost out of the city, and while they didn’t expect anything to happen, it was foolish to assume nothing could. Inslie had still not been located and captured. No one thought the temperamental girl would flee. She would stay nearby, waiting for her opportunity.

  “This is a much more pleasant city than the other ones we have been to,” remarked Prem, interrupting Ben’s thoughts. “There’s foliage, a river, and none of the seedy areas we spent so much time in before.”

  Ben coughed.

  “What?”

  “I’m sure there are seedy areas here,” he explained. “We’ve been following Amelie instead of Rhys, though, and that makes a big difference.”

  “How much of his behavior is an act?” asked Prem.

  Ben blinked. “I-I don’t know. Some of it, certainly.”

  The girl turned back to watching the citizens of Issen as they walked by.

  After they moved out of the congested area around the gate, Lloyd drew close to Ben. “I’ve been meaning to warn you. It’s possible my brother could be attached to one of the scouting parties.”

  Ben frowned. “That would be unfortunate.”

  “If he is,” continued Lloyd, “we should discuss how to deal with it.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Ben. “I thought you were estranged, and you opposed what he was doing. Do you not want to face him?”

  “Of course I do not want to face him,” said Lloyd. “If we crossed swords, he’d kill me. I have no problem with him getting killed in battle, if that were to happen, but I don’t have the skill to do it myself.”

  “Is he that good?” wondered Prem.

  “He is,” confirmed Lloyd.

  “He’s the most dangerous swordsman I’ve faced,” agreed Ben. “I fought him, and it was like he was playing with me. He flowed around my sword like smoke.”

  Serrot twirled his bow shaft. “I wonder if he could flow away from this?”

  “He probably could,” remarked Lloyd dryly. “The man has an uncanny sense for when danger is approaching. In the heat of battle, he always knows what to do. He’s impossible to surprise.”

  “He always knows what to do?” inquired Ben.

  Lloyd shrugged. “It’s an extra sense, something beyond hearing or feeling. I don’t know how to describe it, but he moves before you do. It’s not just that he’s quick. He can sense how a confrontation will go, and he acts. He claims it’s obvious to him, that he can see something coming. As strange as it sounds, it’s the truth. I’ve witnessed it, and if we face him, it’s not just him we need to worry about. It’s what he’ll direct his soldiers to do. Operating with his insight, they could be incredibly dangerous.”

  “I’m not looking forward to facing him blade to blade again,” admitted Ben, “but I think I might have a way to counteract his… intuition.”

  Lloyd raised an eyebrow, but Ben didn’t explain further. Lord Jason knew what to do. It was obvious to him. In battle, it was obvious to Ben as well. It seemed he and the Black Knife had something in common. Jason had been developing his senses for years, though, and Ben was just finding out about his own abilities.

  Prem asked, “Any suggestions on how to deal with him if he does appear with the scouting parties?”

  “Run?” replied Lloyd.

  Ben wasn’t sure if he was jesting.

  “Hold on,” murmured Prem. Her eyes glazed over and her pace dropped to plodding stroll. Ben guessed she was connecting with her father through thought meld, and when she came back, she asked, “Ben, do you have that map?”

  Ben took her and his captains to the side of the road so the column could continue marching. He drew out a map of the region and laid it on the grass.

  Prem bent over and traced a finger along it until she found what she was looking for, a squiggle which represented an unnamed tributary to the Issen river. She tapped on a dot that was labeled Melchin and then moved up along the river. “That Alliance scouting party, two hundred strong, is moving down this waterway toward the village. My father says the village is abandoned.”

  “But they may not know that,” mused Ben. “If we stop them short of there, we can send Saala a confusing signal about what is happening in the field.”

  “There’s another group here,” said Prem, moving her finger east. “Coalition scouts but only a score of them. And then two more groups there and there. It looks like the Coalition is moving men in a regular pattern, like guards on patrol, except they’re stopping in this village here. We’re losing them as they enter the buildings, but several groups a day are arriving there. There could be hundreds staged, but it’s a mystery as to why.”

  “We could sweep them all,” suggested Ben. “Cut north cross country here, meet the Alliance group outside of Melchin, and then move our way up the line of Coalition scouting parties, or we could split up and take them all at once?”

  “Splitting would be risky,” warned Lloyd.

  Ben ran his hand through his hair.

  “We don’t need to split up,” advised Serrot. “Both factions are approaching from the north. Melchin is not far out of the way. We can take the Alliance there. Then, we can cut east to meet the Coalition.”

  “Why from the north?” wondered Ben, his eyes roving over the map. “It would be just as easy to approach Issen from the south, wouldn’t it?”

  “Clean water in the river, maybe?” guessed Lloyd. “Armies need to drink. They could be worried the other side will foul the river somehow. That’s been done before.”

  “Could they do that to Issen?” worried Prem.

  “Issen has deep wells,” responded Lloyd. “If it was a long enough siege and enough people were inside
the walls, it could be a problem, but I don’t think that’s how this will end.”

  “For now,” said Ben, “the plan is the same. We take these scouting parties and cause confusion. I don’t see any reason to divert from that. We have superior numbers and we believe superior visibility out in the field. Let’s head for Melchin and find a spot to meet the Alliance.”

  Ben sent two hundred of his men out into the plains to form a net to keep the Alliance forces pinned in once they sprang their ambush. They would capture as many as they could and kill the rest. It gave Ben an uneasy feeling in his gut, giving the order, but the purpose of their exercise was to sow confusion amongst the Alliance’s ranks. If some of the scouts returned with information that Melchin was abandoned, and they’d been ambushed, then there was little point in doing the ambush. If the men simply went missing and forced Saala to guess what happened to them, then they would achieve their goal. As horrific as it was, they would have to kill the men to stave off the larger conflict.

  “That’s the struggle of leadership, taking ownership of your decisions,” Lloyd had said when Ben confided his distaste of the strategy.

  The blademaster was right, but that didn’t make it any easier.

  The remaining three hundred of Ben’s men stayed with him, and they cautiously approached the village of Melchin. Their mages said it was abandoned, but they could only far-see what was visible from above. They wouldn’t be able to identify anyone lurking inside the buildings and setting an ambush, just like Ben and his men were attempting to do.

  Ben gestured Serrot ahead, and the woodsman from Farview stalked through the high grass, veering around a hill to where he could get a look at the village. They were being overly cautious, but that was better than stumbling into something they didn’t expect. Besides, Lloyd claimed it was good practice, and Ben agreed. He watched his friend vanish like a ghost, only a stir in the grass, blades bending in the wind.

  “He’s even better than my rangers,” whispered Commander Rish. “Where did you say you found him?”

  Ben grinned. “A town called Farview.”

  The commander of the rangers frowned, as if he recognized the name but couldn’t place it.

  “I grew up with him,” explained Ben. “At least, when he wasn’t stalking through the woods. He was out there every day. I think he spent more time under the trees than he did in our village.”

  “Looks like it,” said Rish.

  The commander glanced back at his men. They were lounging on the sides of hillocks, staying quiet, but many of them had let their eyes sag closed, or they were busy shuffling through their gear. Muttering under his breath, Rish slinked off to admonish them to pay attention.

  The men had been tested during the hunt for demons in the north. They were veterans now, but after the battle with the demon-king, they’d had the assistance of mages, blademasters, and guardians. They had the advantage over the smaller swarms. Now, they were in the field with two massive armies on either side of them. The mages were back in Issen or had departed for the City long ago. If they ran into trouble, they were on their own.

  Ben watched the commander move through his men, and in his wake, they repacked their bags and gained a wakefulness in their eyes. Ben saw them watching their surroundings, and no one appeared to be drifting to sleep. A reminder that sudden death was a possibility would wake a man up, it seemed.

  “They’ll be fine,” said Lloyd. The blademaster was seated beside Ben, twirling a long blade of grass between his fingers. “Every fresh recruit in every army in the world is told to grab some sleep whenever the opportunity presents itself. The idea is that they are so busy they need to take advantage of any chance to rest. It’s bullshit, of course. The amount of time an army spends marching or fighting is almost nothing compared to the amount of time they spend sitting around doing nothing. Hurry up and wait, they say. When you’re waiting, there’s nothing wrong with a little snooze, but when you’re on the verge of battle, well, it’s best to stay awake.”

  Ben chuckled. “Maybe we should explain it like that.”

  “I’ve tried,” muttered Lloyd. “We’re overcoming years of indoctrination. Believe it or not, these rangers are much better than most. If we had regular soldiers back there, they would already have the campfires started. They’d be boiling beans, playing cards, and drinking cheap wine. I’d bet my sword at least one of the fools would be playing a fiddle.”

  “A fiddle?”

  “It’s an instrument,” explained Lloyd. “Almost as popular amongst soldiers as the flute, but it’s got strings and a bow. Any time you see someone carrying a fiddle, know that they can’t fight worth a damn. No one who’s serious about swinging a sword is going to strap such a fragile piece of equipment to their back.”

  Ben grinned and then turned to study the gap between the hills where Serrot had disappeared. He tried to wait patiently, and a bell later, the woodsman came wriggling out of the grass. Ben breathed a sigh of relief. Serrot had been gone twice as long as they’d expected.

  “Anything wrong?” asked Ben.

  His friend frowned. “I’m not sure.”

  Ben gestured Lloyd, Rish, and Prem closer.

  “The place looks abandoned, just like we expected, but it doesn’t feel right to me,” continued Serrot. “There are no signs of life, but it feels like… I don’t know, like someone was recently there.”

  “The villagers evacuated almost a week ago,” remarked Rish. “It’s possible scouting parties could have been through here. I saw the map. They’re thick around this area.”

  Serrot looked concerned but didn’t dispute the commander’s thoughts.

  “Did you see any reason we shouldn’t approach?” asked Ben.

  “Nothing I can put my finger on,” admitted Serrot.

  “With three hundred men,” said Lloyd, “we should be able to handle any scouting party. From the way the village was described, it’d be difficult to hide a force much bigger than ours.”

  “Let’s go,” said Ben, “but we move slowly and in small groups. If something is amiss, let’s find out before the entire group is in the village. Squads of twenty at the most. Lloyd and Rish, you direct the men into different units. Prem, you lead the way and see if you can sense anything out of the ordinary.”

  “You think there might be wards?” asked the former guardian.

  “I think if Serrot feels something is off, then something is off,” confirmed Ben. “What is it? I don’t know.”

  Standing in the center of Melchin, he still didn’t know.

  One by one, squads of men streamed into the village and were directed inside wood-framed, sod-covered buildings. The place was comprised of several dozen of the low-slung structures that clustered along a muddy waterway. Someone must have shipped thick wooden beams from elsewhere, and then, they’d covered them with heavy plugs of grass and dirt. The grass still grew on most of the buildings, making them look like tiny copies of the hills around them. It was a cheap and efficient way to build a town, but Ben wondered why it had been done.

  “Why is this place out here?” he asked, spinning around in the center of the village.

  Prem, standing beside him, shrugged. “It’s on the water, and that water connects to the river, and the river connects to Issen. They could ship products down to the city from here.”

  “Products?” asked Ben.

  “Grass…” responded the former guardian.

  Ben scratched at the scar on his arm and began to stroll around the village. It made no sense to ship grass, and there were no other crops growing anywhere they’d seen. Prem walked beside him as they watched more squads file into the place and get directed into hiding.

  “There are no docks,” said Ben suddenly. He was peering between two sod-covered domiciles at the muddy bank of the river.

  Prem frowned but didn’t have an answer.

  The sound of running feet drew Ben’s notice, and he saw Serrot dashing into the village.

  “We’ve got a
bell before the main force arrives. Half a dozen scouts are moving a quarter bell in advance of them,” called the woodsman. “Two hundred, just like what was reported. The net’s in place, so we just need to get out of sight and prepare the ambush.”

  “Just two more groups,” called Lloyd from across the village. “We’ll be under cover with time to spare. We’ll take the scouts quickly and move them out of sight. When the main group arrives, they’ll get a mouthful of arrows once they’re in the center of the village. We’ll follow with cold steel. As long as they don’t see us before we attack, we should make short work of them.”

  Ben stood at the edge of the village, studying the muddy bank, barely hearing his captain. Why wasn’t there a dock? Even if the place didn’t have merchandise to ship to Issen, it would still cut the trip in half by moving over water instead of the plains. Even if not for transportation, the village should have boats for fishing.

  “What is it?” asked Prem.

  Ben turned and studied the village, letting his eyes drift until he found what he was looking for. Two ruts in the grass, impressions worn into the soil. Small wagons or carts passed that way often enough to leave a mark even a week after the village was abandoned, but where were they going?

  Ben raced across the village and found where the ruts entered. Then, he followed the tracks across the dirt street. Something heavy, and frequent, passed that way. Even on the packed dirt in town, the tracks went the same way every time. They led to one of the tallest buildings. Peeking in, Ben saw two squads of men waiting in a large, empty room.

  “Sir?” asked one of the men.