Artesans of Albia: 02 - King's Champion

by Cas Peace

  Vanyr was waiting. Slowly, she removed her cloak and jacket, handing them to Jay’el. His eyes on the commander, he said, “Be careful, Lady.”

  She smiled. “There is no call for concern, Jay’el. We are only fencing for exercise.” Glancing at Vanyr’s faintly superior expression, she added, “We are not in competition here, and there is no intent of bloodshed. Is that not so, Commander?”

  “Of course.” Moving economically, he stepped back into the larger space of the barracks training ground.

  Sullyan observed how he moved and placed his feet, realizing immediately that he would be a difficult opponent. He was much taller than she was and had a greater reach. His lithe body might well cancel out any advantage her smaller size and agility usually gave her. Briefly, she entertained the notion of starting with a right-handed grip, but then remembered he had observed part of her fight with Ky-shan. A man like Vanyr wouldn’t forget such talent. She abandoned the idea and slipped her sword free of its scabbard using her stronger left hand. She would watch for an opening to change grip if one presented itself.

  The pirates moved to one side so they could watch the bout. Ky-shan was clearly uneasy. A couple of off-duty Velletian Guardsmen also strolled over to see what their commander was up to. Ignoring them all, Sullyan concentrated on the lithe man before her.

  Vanyr stood lightly balanced, his gaze assessing her. He was probably the most dangerous fighter she had yet to meet. The prospect of learning his fighting style and testing her skills against him suddenly made her smile. It was what she wanted, to feel the purpose of her life again, to pit her strength and cunning against a worthy opponent, to be able to block everything else from her mind. It was what made her come alive, and she loved it.

  This change in her demeanor clearly puzzled Vanyr. She saw his momentary confusion and used it to make the first strike. He failed to anticipate the move and was forced to parry. It was a clumsy stroke and was also, she thought, what he had intended to force out of her. His eyes showed a flash of ire, yet he was too fine a swordsman to allow irritation to affect him for long. Soon, they were fencing in earnest.

  * * * * *

  Robin was growing restless. During Sullyan’s interview with Marik and subsequent meeting with Pharikian, she had asked him to remain in their suite. He didn’t mind. He knew what she was doing and appreciated the chance to rest. After a couple of hours he began anticipating her return. When she didn’t appear, he started to worry that the meetings hadn’t gone well. Another uneasy half hour passed before he finally decided to go look for her. First, he made his way to the small office where she would have spoken with the Count. As expected, the room was vacant, all signs of occupation removed by the servants. Thinking she might be discussing the battle with Pharikian, he walked through the corridors toward the Hierarch’s more intimate audience chamber, the one he used for less formal interviews. Yet the Captain quickly realized the room wasn’t in use as there were no guards outside. Even within his own Palace, the Hierarch was constantly shadowed by the Velletian Guard.

  Robin was puzzled and stood a moment in thought before shrugging and turning back. Sullyan would either have returned to their rooms by now or perhaps be up on the battlements with Anjer. However, just as he began the walk back he saw the Lord General emerge from a corridor ahead.

  Anjer saw him and turned. “Captain!”

  Robin waited for Anjer to approach and accorded the huge man his due salute. Anjer had no time for formalities. “I need to find Brynne, Captain. Where is she?”

  “I don’t know, my Lord. I thought she was with the Hierarch ...?”

  “Their meeting ended over an hour ago. Can you find her, Captain? There have been developments and I need to speak to her.”

  Closing his eyes to aid his concentration, Robin searched for her familiar pattern. Finding it immediately, her total lack of response told him what was happening. He opened his eyes and grinned.

  “I might have known.” Seeing Anjer’s puzzlement, he added, “She’s having her mind diverted. She always does this when she’s worried. I just pity the poor man she’s chosen to distract her. She’s out on the training ground, my Lord.”

  Anjer scowled. “Who with?”

  Now it was Robin’s turn to look puzzled. “I don’t know. She’s too committed to let me see, and I don’t want to risk disturbing her. It must be someone very skilled or it wouldn’t take up all her attention.”

  Anjer’s face darkened, his whole body radiating anger. “Come with me.” Turning, he strode toward the Palace’s outer doors, moving so swiftly that Robin had to trot to keep up.

  * * * * *

  Vanyr and Sullyan circled each other warily, looking for weaknesses. To Sullyan’s delight and the Commander’s clearly displayed annoyance, they were evenly matched. Vanyr had tried several times to disarm her or slip through her guard, but instead of proving easy to vanquish, Sullyan had forced him to employ every defensive maneuver he knew in order to avoid her lightning-fast strikes. She was lighter and more agile than he thought, and as he had never fought a woman before, he hadn’t expected her strength. Sullyan had also developed other, subtler techniques to overcome her lack of height and mass, and she never allowed Vanyr into a position where he could use his greater weight against her. Instead, she kept him on the move, forcing him to spend his energy in lunge, parry, and dodge, while she danced lightly around him, looking for openings in his defenses.

  Had he been less annoyed, she thought, less frustrated, less eager to humiliate her, he might have enjoyed the bout. Sullyan herself was enjoying it greatly. Her muscles felt strong and alive and her skin tingled with the energies flowing through it. She never felt as vibrant as when using her physical skills against a competent opponent and in the pure pleasure of the moment she completely forgot the animosity between them.

  When Anjer’s battlefield voice suddenly reverberated around the training ground—“Commander!”—Vanyr’s reaction took her completely by surprise.

  Sullyan broke off her attack instantly, but Vanyr did not. Intensely annoyed by his failure to master her, he neither retracted his lunge nor attempted to turn aside his blade. As Sullyan lowered her guard and stepped back, the tip of Vanyr’s sword laid her left forearm open almost to the bone. Gasping in pain, she clamped her right hand over the wound and sank to one knee.

  Robin sprinted over to help her. Vanyr stood towering over them both, a nasty smile playing on his lips. Anjer strode furiously up to him, black eyes blazing.

  “I saw that, Commander, it was a deliberate strike! You heard me call you, man. Why didn’t you put up your sword?”

  Vanyr stood sullenly, unwilling to answer. Anjer turned to Sullyan, who had risen shakily with Robin’s help, her hand still clamped about the bleeding wound. Her face was white and her eyes dilated wide as she expended power to slow the bleeding and ease the shock.

  “I’m sorry, Major.” Anjer’s voice was gruff with concern. “I’ll see he pays for that.”

  Sullyan dampened her power and turned some of her attention on Anjer. Calming her breath, she allowed a small, humorless smile to quirk her lips. “Never mind, my Lord.” Her eyes turned hard as she regarded Vanyr. “You must not blame the Commander. He was overpressed and mistimed his stroke. Is that not so, Commander Vanyr?”

  Vanyr’s eyes narrowed angrily. She had backed him into a corner. He had to either admit a mistake, which would gall him intensely, or reveal that his last action was deliberate, in which case he would suffer Anjer’s wrath. Either way he was shamed in front of both her men and his, and she knew he would never forgive her. The fact that his predicament was entirely of his own making wouldn’t sway him.

  Anjer was waiting, clearly not believing Sullyan’s version. He stared Vanyr in the eye. “Well?”

  The Commander shot Sullyan a malicious glance and gritted his teeth. “The Major is correct, my Lord. A mistimed stroke, that’s all.”

  Anjer wasn’t satisfied. “And?”

  Color
flared on Vanyr’s pinched face and he sheathed his sword with an angry snap. “Major. Please accept my apologies.”

  She glanced up from hooded eyes, her hand still clamped about her injured arm. “I hear your gracious apology, Commander. We will say no more about it.”

  Anjer studied her before turning back to Vanyr. “Commander, I suggest you spend more time in practice if you are mistiming strokes.” Vanyr clenched his fist on the hilt of his sword, but Anjer didn’t notice. “Go about your duties, man.”

  Vanyr turned on his heel and stalked away. The pirates stared angrily after him. Jay’el came forward and slung Sullyan’s cloak about her shoulders, keeping her heated body from chilling with the shock and freezing wind. Robin put his arm about her and led her away, Anjer falling into step beside them.

  The Lord General accompanied them back to their suite and sat waiting while Robin and Sullyan saw to the cleaning and dressing of her wound. By expending power between them they had it half-healed already. The dressing was mainly for protection. Sullyan stripped off her shirt and breeches, which were damp from perspiration, and quickly washed. Dressed in a clean white shirt and plain black breeches, she joined Robin and Anjer by the fire. Robin handed her the fellan he knew she would need. Anjer frowned as he saw how shaky her grip was.

  “I’ll have Vanyr’s miserable hide for this,” he growled.

  Sullyan hadn’t spoken since the incident. She suddenly rounded on Anjer, startling both him and Robin. “My Lord, did you give orders to the men that I was to be protected?”

  Anjer flushed and had the grace to look away. “We—that is, Pharikian and I—were concerned for you, Brynne. It was to prevent just such an occurrence that we did it. We didn’t want you exposed to unnecessary risks.”

  Her heart pounded with anger. “As you can see, it worked very well!”

  Robin shot Anjer a look. The Lord General wasn’t sure quite how to deal with this. Sullyan, however, wasn’t finished.

  “For nearly twenty-four years I have relied on my own skills and strengths, my Lord. I am well used to protecting myself. I neither want nor need your interference. I am fully aware that you are more concerned for the wellbeing of the Hierarch’s Champion rather than Brynne Sullyan, but you will do me the courtesy of allowing me to worry about my preparations for the day.”

  Anjer’s flush deepened and he began to protest, but Sullyan continued furiously.

  “I will decide what I need and will conduct what is left of my life as I choose. When I need your intervention or protection, my Lord, I hope I shall have the sense to ask for it. Until that time, pray keep out of my affairs!”

  She turned abruptly and sank into one of the easy chairs by the fire. Her hand shook as she downed her fellan. Anjer remained silent, clearly taken aback by her outburst. Robin, who was used to her temper, gestured for the huge man to wait. They sat in awkward silence.

  After a few minutes, Sullyan sighed.

  “Gentlemen, my apologies. Lord General, I ask your pardon. I did not mean to speak so harshly. It is not easy being a woman among so many men, and I do not take kindly to cosseting.”

  Anjer gave a rueful smile. “So I see. I will remember that in future.” He leaned forward. “How’s the arm?”

  She grimaced. “Two days should see it right. We are not likely to encounter Rykan before then, I think.” She raised her eyes to his. “My Lord, it might be politic not to mention this incident to the Hierarch. I do not want to worry him.”

  Anjer’s expression was grim. “I doubt I’d have to mention it to him. There were too many witnesses for it to remain a secret. Your ... seamen in particular were most displeased. But that aside, there was a reason why I sought you out. There’s been news from Ephan. Our forces have successfully brought Rykan’s troops to a halt and have engaged them directly. The units sent round to the rear of the columns have encountered fierce opposition in one particular spot. Their commanders have reported seeing some of Rykan’s personal guard among the defenders, but there’s still been no sign of the man himself. It seems we were right, Brynne. The Duke of Kymer is skulking at the rear, protected by his elite guard. He has no intention of showing himself before he’s ready.”

  Sullyan’s heart fell and she bowed her head. She had been hoping desperately that Marik wouldn’t need to endanger himself to flush Rykan out. She was very much afraid now that he would.

  Later that evening, the Hierarch, the Lord General, Sullyan, Robin, and Marik gathered in one of Pharikian’s private drawing rooms to discuss Marik’s best strategy. The Count was eager to play his part, but Sullyan pleaded caution, begging him not to put himself in any unnecessary personal danger.

  Marik shrugged. “But in order to be effective, Sullyan, I’ll have to place myself right under his nose. Otherwise he’ll just send out his elite guard rather than coming after me himself.”

  Sullyan glanced at Anjer. “My Lord, I have a suggestion. If we keep up the current pressure on Rykan’s front lines, drawing them on toward the Plains, the rearguard will move forward also so as not to be separated.”

  Anjer nodded. “Of course.”

  “Then I think we should deliberately try to separate them.”

  He cocked his head, considering.

  “My Lord, the units sent to the rear of Rykan’s columns should move up to the point of fiercest resistance. Our right and left flanks would then coordinate to pinch the column between them, as if attempting to sunder Rykan from the rest of his command. Such tactics would surely force the Duke to act.”

  Marik butted in. “Yes! And once the movement’s begun, my men can become the wedge in the break, so to speak, driving in as if trying to herd Rykan away from the bulk of his troops. If I let myself be seen, that should get his attention.”

  Sullyan added, “And if our forces keep harrying the main column, drawing them onward, the Duke will want to deal swiftly with Marik so he can rejoin his men.”

  Anjer frowned. “But what if the separation ploy fails? What if Rykan refuses to chase the Count?”

  Sullyan shrugged. “He will not refuse, my Lord. He was so enraged on discovering my disappearance and Marik’s defection that he almost put off mobilizing his troops in order to give chase. It was fortunate that he did not, for there were only seven of us and I was no use at that time.”

  Pharikian leaned forward. “Seven? Your other friends did not stay with you, then?”

  She closed her eyes against the pain of the memory, thinking especially of Bull and Rienne. “I thought it best that they return to Albia. We did not know what we would find when we got here.”

  “A pity. I would have liked to meet them. You must miss them.”

  “I am happier knowing they are safe. My Captain keeps them informed, and he will return to them once this is over.”

  Anjer folded his arms and leaned back. “Very well, Brynne. I will communicate with Ephan and order the units sent to the rear of Rykan’s lines to begin a pincer movement designed to separate his column of troops. Kryp will take control of the forces engaging the front of the column and step up the pace, drawing them on toward the Plains. Count Marik and his men will attempt to slip around Rykan’s flanks and coordinate with Ephan, driving into the breach made by Ephan’s units while ensuring that Rykan sees who is responsible. Marik will then run for the Plains, hopefully drawing Rykan with him. Once he’s in the open, Ephan and Kryp will pull back, allowing the split forces to rejoin. This tactic should fool Rykan into thinking he still commands superior numbers. Only when it’s too late will he see our full complement of troops, ranged on the Citadel Plains. He will realize he’s been matched in strength, and once he understands he can’t win, he’ll be forced to capitulate.”

  Sullyan nodded. “That is the trickiest part. As formal challenger, Rykan must either defeat his opponent or withdraw his challenge. Only by a withdrawal will the Crown be free to challenge on its own behalf.”

  The discussions over, Sullyan didn’t stay to see the Count depart. Exhausted b
y her concern for Marik, her earlier exercise, and the shock of Vanyr’s malice, she retired early. On entering their apartment she surprised Robin by not bathing, as she had done every evening since their arrival at the Citadel. Instead, she went straight to her rest. He followed and held her close while she slept, trying not to worry over what the next few days would bring.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  As his horse followed Bull’s onto the crest of the small hill, Taran finally had his first view of the Citadel and its surrounding Plains. It was an hour before noon and the day, although cold and frosty, was bright with sunlight from a pale blue sky. The horses’ breath plumed in the air before them and their coats steamed faintly. Taran, with Bull to his left and Cal and Rienne to his right, sat gazing across the few miles separating them from Sullyan and Robin. It might as well have been hundreds, he thought, for all the chance there was of crossing them.

  Bull roused himself. “Yes, this is the place Robin showed me. He said the fighting’s been contained in those forests over there,” he pointed eastward, “but now they’re hoping to draw Rykan onto the Plains. We won’t be able to see the finer details from here, but if the Hierarch’s challenge is successful and Sullyan has to confront Rykan, we should be able to link with Robin and watch from his perspective.”

  Rienne paled at the thought of Sullyan meeting Rykan, and Bull hurried on.

  “I suggest we set up camp and make ourselves as comfortable as possible. We’ll need to post watches. Although the burden of scouting for the enemy will be taken by me and Taran, we must all be vigilant. Rykan’s men are the main threat, of course, but I don’t want to be found by the Hierarch’s either. That would be highly embarrassing. I can just imagine what the Major would say if we were escorted in under armed guard.”

  Even Rienne smiled at that, and although Taran knew Bull was serious, the humor lightened the tension. He had expected to feel better once they arrived at their destination, yet he was actually feeling more restive. Knowing they were so close to Sullyan yet still unable to help her was galling. He suddenly noticed Rienne staring at him and wondered if the empathic healer had caught an echo of his thoughts. He shivered and she looked away. Taran didn’t mention it to her. There really wasn’t any point. Instead, he busied himself seeing to his horse. There would be time for reflection later.