by Guy Antibes
Pol patted the hand that Shira put on his shoulder.
“You will do what needs to be done,” Shira said.
“I will.” He looked evenly at the officers. “There is a main road half a day’s travel to the east. We will take one army up that road.” Pol looked at General Axe. “Can you do that? No one knows you in North Salvan. Biloben and I will travel cross country in parallel columns.” He looked at General Biloben. “Proceed directly north until you reach a range of hills. There is a Borstall road that runs through them.” He pointed out his route on the North Salvan map that Biloben had spread in front of them. “I’ll take my army up the coast road.” He yawned. “It’s time to get a good rest. We travel as quickly as we can as soon as the Shinkyan Elders arrive.”
~
Elder Harona arrived with her contingent of Grand Masters and a few newly-elevated Elders at mid-morning. They would travel with General Axe. Pol’s army joined General Axe’s until they crossed the main road.
“Engage the enemy at will,” Pol said. “If you confront anything you can’t handle, let either Biloben or myself know, and we will send whatever troops you need.” Biloben saluted Pol, who smiled. “Am I doing the right thing? Is this the right strategy?”
“I’d tell you if I disagreed,” the General said. “You are doing as well or better than I’ve done so far. Keep it up.” Biloben clapped Pol on the shoulder. “Maybe a naval blockade of the entire North Salvan coast might be appropriate if Queen Isa has the ships.”
“Oh,” Pol said, remembering how easy it was for him to slip away from King Astor when he captured North Salvan’s capital. “That is an excellent idea. I will do that if the Emperor hasn’t already.”
“I’m sure you would have come up with it, marching up the coast, but it’s better to get ships positioned as soon as possible.”
Pol mentally slapped himself. He should have thought of that. He pulled out the rune book linked to Queen Isa and anxiously waited for his wristband to light up.
I have already activated my navy and have troops marching to the Royal Port. I do not have rune books on the ships yet, but I have dispatched those as I write. I am tickled that you asked. It makes me feel like a General.
Pol wrote that it is better to be a Queen than a General and asked her to keep him informed. She could enforce the blockades as soon as her ships reached North Salvan ports. Malden informed Pol that the Emperor already had ships approaching Borstall.
His army had to swallow the dust of General Axe, who had already left the camp as soon as Elder Harona arrived. They reached the main road. He said farewell to General Biloben and General Nokima, looking forward to clearer air.
Pol and Shira rode just ahead of the Shinkyan horses, along with Jonness, the Seeker-Monk who had helped train Pol. His bonded horse, Lightning, actually led the herd, not Demeron.
“Demeron, if Lightning wants, the herd can travel cross-country. There is no reason for them to follow the road. They can always find us. It’s just past harvest, so there should be lots of forage on the way.”
I think they will like to move on their own, Demeron said. You should ask Jonness if he is comfortable with that.
“Jonness, do you think Lightning would like to lead the horses cross-country to the coast? The can travel faster than we will if they choose.”
“Or slower,” Shira said, smiling.
The Deftnis monk smiled and looked off into the distance for a moment. “He would. Can we leave now?”
“As soon as you load up some provisions for yourself. Take some mounted Shinkyan soldiers and at least one Sister who can speak Eastrilian. Keep an eye on your wristband in case we need you.”
Jonness saluted. “I intended to do that, but thank you.” He rode off and soon returned with sacks tied onto his saddlebags and a squad of soldiers. The horses veered north and disappeared into one of the many stretches of woods that dotted the southern part of North Salvan.
Pol felt a bit sorry, more hollow than regretful, that he hadn’t been able to keep in close touch with so many of those who had helped him along the way. Even Fadden and Paki traveled with General Axe’s army up ahead. Akil and other Deftnis monks fought in Listya. Kelso and Darrol helped protect his duchy with the Redearth Guard. Val stewed in Tishiko, but he knew the factions would not stop their games while their armies were away. Maybe he now enjoyed playing along with them.
He leaned over to Shira. “How is everything going in Tishiko?”
She laughed. “It’s much the same. Thank you for your renewed interest, O Great Ancestor. My sister, Maruko, now consults with Val as his primary Royal contact.”
“And your mother?”
“Causing headaches for the Bureaucracy, as usual. When these troops return to Shinkya, the changes will really begin.”
“As intended,” Pol said.
Shira nodded. “Our job isn’t finished yet.”
“I know. We don’t know what faces us in Borstall.”
“They will have a lot of advanced warning,” Shira said.
“Not as much as they think. The Winnowers and Grostin will be surprised when we send our advanced group into the city.”
“I’m ready for that,” Shira said. “I’d like to pay back your brother for the grief he’s caused us.”
Pol went silent. He could not stop being conflicted. Even Amonna had lost any regard for her brother, and yet when the time came, Pol abhorred the idea of executing Grostin. He would do what he had to do, but the thought still plagued him.
~
Pol had not spent much time along North Salvan’s southern coast, so he noticed many things during his march. They approached the city of Manderbay, a port with docked ships and a harbor with anchored vessels.
“Keep the army going until nightfall,” Pol said to the Fanira. “Shira and I are going to visit the town.”
“Are you sure you won’t need an escort?”
Pol shrugged. “There aren’t any troops or evidence of a recent camp. We will be fine. If your wristband lights up, you might respond quickly,” he said with a smile.
Shira and Pol turned off towards the town, following the road. The army forged their own path directly north.
“An interlude?” she said.
“No, intelligence gathering. I’m hopeful the coast has been neglected because of the Winnowers’ focus on Yastan.”
They rode into town. The citizens stared at the couple, dressed in armor and fully armed, riding large horses.
Pol stopped as a well-dressed man moved in front of him.
“You’re the Emperor’s Army?” He looked down the street for more people.
“I assure you we are enough for this town,” Pol said. “Where are the Winnowers?”
“Gone long ago. Their army is now so far that we can’t even sell them fresh fish.”
“And you are the town’s mayor?”
“Deputy. Circumstances dragged the mayor into the war with South Salvan. He didn’t return, so I guess I’m the one to send you on your way.”
“Are you a Winnower?” Pol said. He knew the answer but wanted to continue the discussion for a bit.
“Me? No! We just want to be left alone.”
Pol laughed. “Don’t we all? Are you for or against the Emperor?”
“You are from the Empire?” the man said.
“I am originally from North Salvan, but I am for Hazett III.”
“The army that passed by, are you a member of it?”
“I am. I can send a message that they will buy all the fresh fish you can sell to them. Would that convince you I’m an Imperial?”
“You don’t demand? You’ll pay?” The deputy mayor asked.
“Isn’t that only fair?”
“I’m an Imperial, then. The Winnowers demanded free fish and other things.”
“Consider yourself liberated.”
“I’m still beholden to the Fairfield line.”
“Good, then I’ll permit you to be consistent. I grew up as P
oldon Fairfield, the son of Queen Molissa and King Colvin.”
“The disinherited prince?”
“That is me, all grown up,” Pol pulled on his hair. “I have the same hair. If anyone in the village lived in Borstall over eight years ago, they would have seen my hair.”
“You are going to kill the King?”
“Not unless the Emperor commands. My brother has thrown in with the Winnowers. That does make him a traitor.”
The man looked alarmed and threw up his hands. “I’m no traitor.”
“I didn’t call you one. Do you have a town council? Get one together immediately along with the captains of the ships currently sitting at anchor in your harbor and tied up at your docks. Is there a place where my friend and I can eat?”
The mayor pointed to an inn just up the street. “We only have a limited menu.”
“I understand,” Pol said, looking out over the gathering crowd. He stood up in his stirrups. “I am Pol Cissert Pastelle, adopted son of the Emperor and formerly Prince Poldon Fairfield of the Royal Family of North Salvan. I have brought an army with me to throw down the Winnower rebellion. I am not here to conquer Manderbay, but have come as a friend and a former countryman.”
The crowd buzzed with excited talk. “You’re going to take care of your rascal brother, the king?”
“I will do as the Emperor dictates,” Pol said. “The army I am with is camping to the north. You should be able to follow their tracks. They might want to buy food and other things if you’ll accept Shinkyan and South Salvan coinage.”
Some of the townspeople began to push out of the crowd and run away. Pol would have to warn Fanira of the onslaught. Even the deputy mayor looked a little concerned, but he had a different job.
“I want you to gather as many as you can while I get something to eat,” Pol said. He waved to the crowd. “The Emperor has your best interests in mind.”
The people parted as he led Shira to the inn. They loosely tied up their horses and walked into the inn. A person ran in and said something to the innkeeper, who looked at Pol with narrowed eyes. He walked over.
“You are Poldon Fairfield?”
“I used to go by that name. I stopped using it because I was hunted by my father.”
The man showed them to a table by the window. Pol and Shira shed some of their weaponry and armor and piled it along with bags containing rune books, among other things.
“I remember seeing you at the Emperor’s processional. Skinny, really skinny. You filled out nicely, but I do know that no one else other than you and your mother had that color hair.” His eyes drifted to Pol’s scalp. “There are still plenty of Winnower sympathizers in town,” he said.
“I don’t doubt that. The Winnowers use mind-control, and I am sure there are some infected with the spell. We will be careful. If you know of any, let me know. I have a way to remove it.”
“That’s right. You are a magician of sorts.”
Pol smiled. “I am. So is Shira.”
The innkeeper gave her a curt bow. “Never had a Shinkyan in this place before. Is your army Shinkyan?”
Pol nodded “It is. I am something of a notable person among them. They followed me all the way to Borstall.”
“Den of vipers, it is. Not like when you were there.”
“But it was. That is why my mother died, and I had to flee. South Salvan vipers who no longer rule that country.”
“Right, Queen Isa.” He squinted. “Why did you stop here?”
“Fresh fish?” Shira said.
Pol chuckled. “I want the coast blockaded. Queen Isa is sending ships. I want all the ports blocked so the Winnowers can’t escape. Do you think that’s possible?”
The innkeeper shook his head. “You can cut down smuggling, but you can’t eliminate it.”
“Then let’s say, I’d like to make it harder.”
The innkeeper nodded. “I’ll cook up some beefsteak I got fresh this morning. I’ll be right back.”
Shira looked at Pol. “He asks a lot of questions.”
Pol nodded. “We will see him at our little meeting. We might have done a little good here. Can you tell Fanira that instead of coming to the town, the town is coming to her?”
Shira nodded. “I’ll write it in Shinkyan.”
“Good idea. Send a message to General Axe and General Biloben to do the same thing. Critical messages need to be sent between armies. If the enemy gets a rune book, they won’t be able to decipher our communications.”
She nodded and pulled out the rune book in the bag she carried into the inn. Amble and Demeron would protect the rest.
Pol heard a commotion in the street. He checked his protection spell and stood watching Demeron and Amble fight off men and a few women trying to take them away.
A thrown rock sent glass shards into their table.
“I’m glad we haven’t been served yet,” Pol said, looking at the glass littering the tabletop as he moved outside to stop the attack. “You continue to write.”
He stepped outside. An arrow bounced against his shields. Pol ran to the perpetrator, a woman, and eliminated the ward from her mind. Pol did the same to as many people as he could, while Demeron and Amble kept the little crowd from running away. He broadcast a tweak to eliminate mind-control, and that staggered a few more.
“You have all been ensorcelled by the Winnowers or the South Salvan magicians. I have removed the spells. I am not your enemy. The Winnow Society is. If there are others who you think are affected by the Winnowers, bring them to me,” Pol said. “These two horses are very intelligent. Do not attempt to take them. I say that for your own safety. If you don’t mind, I’ll return to my meal,” Pol said, forcing a smile.
He turned, expecting another rock to be thrown, but nothing happened on his walk back inside.
“There,” he said, adjusting his tunic after he sat down. A maid swept up the glass and re-set the table.
The innkeeper and a serving maid brought their dinner and drew the curtain.
“I am very sorry about that. It shouldn’t have happened. Our people used to know better.”
“Can’t be helped,” Pol said. “If you know others who are vehemently in favor of the Winnowers, let me know, and I can tell if they are under a spell.”
“The Imperials don’t do the same thing?” the innkeeper said.
Shira looked at Pol. He could see the concern on her face.
“No. Not that I have ever seen, except in West Huffnya where the Winnow Society originated and South Salvan’s Tesna Monastery.”
“It is odd that the threats come from opposite sides of the Empire,” the innkeeper said.
Pol nodded. “That might have been the intent. A crack that ran from the Northwest to Southeast with another crack emerging in Daftine and a couple of duchies in the Dukedom. A strategy coordinated and well-planned, intended to fracture the Baccusol Empire.”
“I’m sorry that I am keeping you from your dinner.”
A woman walked in and called the innkeeper over. The man said in a loud voice. “I’ll escort the pair of them over to the mayor’s chambers when they are through eating.”
Shira and Pol shrugged at each other. As they ate, Pol wondered if the Winnowers had encouraged the South Salvan army to build up. Perhaps King Astor and General Onkar were too hasty in their invasion of South Salvan. Two such revolutions in five years seemed too much of a coincidence. If they were connected, then Pol could not see how Grostin couldn’t be in on it, since he so easily capitulated to the Winnowers.
The innkeeper interrupted his musings. “It’s time to meet with the town council. Please finish up.”
Pol looked down at his plate, surprised that he had eaten everything. Tweaking did build up an appetite. He stood and put his armor back on and helped Shira with some of hers. They carried their bags out into the street.
“Patience,” Pol said to Demeron. He called to the innkeeper who walked a few paces ahead of him. “Could you provide feedbags for bot
h our horses?”
“I should have thought of that,” he said, turning and running into the inn for a moment and then running back out again. “We need to go.”
Pol expected more trouble in the impromptu council meeting. “Shields up,” he said as they walked in. Shira paused and then nodded.
The first thing Pol did was tweak a cessation to mind-control. He noted one woman swaying just a bit.
“I’d like to shake everyone’s hand,” Pol said. “I appreciate you coming to see me. As the Deputy Mayor probably told you, I’m the disinherited prince.”
“Not so disinherited, since you are Hazett’s family.”
Pol nodded. “In a sense, we are all his family. He has a great concern for the people of the Empire, but he also doesn’t want to rule with an iron fist. Sometimes that concern leads to the unfortunate situation in North Salvan. Too many have been killed in the name of the Winnowers.”
“King Grostin is our ruler,” a man said.
Pol finally got to him and found a ward. He looked the man in they eye. “Tell me why?” Pol said. He worked on the man’s brain while the warded man spouted nonsense about being true to the Royal family and that his own was loyal for generations. The ward finally evaporated in the usual way, and the man fell into Pol’s arms. “This man was warded by the Winnowers. His viewpoint may shift when he collects his wits.” He carried the disoriented man to a chair and let him recover.
Pol attended to the weaker ward on the Deputy Mayor. It came off quickly, and the man shook his head and blinked his eyes quickly, looking at Pol in fear.
“Excuse me.” He turned to walk out when arrows came in from windows, falling harmlessly to the ground.
Pol put every person in tweaking distance to sleep. Unfortunately, Shira fell with the others. He woke her up. “The Deputy Mayor set up an ambush.”
“Warded.”
Pol nodded and checked the last two. They might have been mind-controlled, but they were free of any other taint.
“You can wake the council members up. I’ll check on those outside.”
He found the archers and dragged them into the council room. All the men were warded. Pol removed those and wondered how he would save the people in North Salvan if so many were under the Winnowers’ spells.
