Artesans of Albia: 02 - King's Champion

by Cas Peace

  With a perfunctory nod to the sullen man, Robin moved to Sullyan’s other side. Gazing out across the Plains, he was amazed at the size of the two armies and began to have serious doubts about the Hierarch’s ability to force Rykan to surrender. Sullyan smiled wearily at him and briefly touched his arm. Placing it around her shoulders, he held her close.

  The preliminary moves of the battle were being played out before their eyes. The archers and crossbowmen on either side were currently trying to reduce their opposite numbers while the foot and mounted troops behind them stirred restlessly. Robin could see Anjer in his dark, gold-trimmed uniform, sun glinting off his rank insignia and array of battle honors as he rode to and fro along his lines, encouraging, planning, and bestirring his men to action. The Captain could also make out the forms of Kryp and Ephan, both rallying their men and holding them in readiness for the main assault.

  Guiltily, Robin’s eyes strayed southwest over his shoulder, toward the knoll where Bull, Taran, Cal, and Rienne had made camp. He wondered if he could get away with a tight link to Bull without Sullyan’s knowledge. His skills were sufficient for the task, he just wasn’t sure how focused she was at present and whether she might notice his distraction. Regarding her closely, seeing how intent was her concentration, he decided to risk it.

  Bull?

  The call was as soft and tight as he could make it, and there was an instant response from the big man. He must have been aware of the start of the fighting and was waiting for Robin’s call.

  Robin! What’s happening?

  The Captain swiftly told Bull about Marik’s heroic venture and its consequences. Bull’s concern was plain through their link, but there was nothing Robin could do to alleviate it. He gave quick details of the Count’s care and treatment, and then told Bull how the battle was shaping. But Bull had more immediate concerns.

  How’s Sully?

  Robin glanced at her as she stood talking quietly to the Hierarch. She was very pale, and the way she kept pressing her belly worried him. It was as if the old pain was gnawing at her. He was deeply afraid that the poison in her soul would claim her life before she could fulfill her self-imposed task.

  Bull clearly felt Robin’s fear despite his shielding. Can’t the Hierarch and his physician do anything more to help her?

  They’ve done all they can, said Robin sadly. They’re afraid that if they try again they’ll impair her own powers, and that would be disastrous. I’m terribly worried for her, Bull.

  Then let’s hope this battle is over sooner rather than later. Remember, lad, don’t hold the wake before the bloody funeral!

  Bull broke the link abruptly, but Robin sensed his despair. Smiling a little at Bull’s favorite phrase, he hugged Sullyan to him.

  * * * * *

  The Major stood encircled by her lover’s strong arms, his warmth easing the tension in her belly. Presently, she noticed Vanyr stirring. The man had remained silent unless asked a direct question by his monarch, and now he made his excuses to Pharikian and turned to depart. In Ephan’s absence, he was in full command of the Velletian Guard and he had duties to attend to. Before he could leave, however, she stepped away from Robin and addressed him.

  “Commander Vanyr, would you do me the courtesy of granting a private word?”

  He froze mid-stride. Both Robin and the Hierarch turned their heads, as startled as the white-eyed Commander, but they made no comment. Unable to refuse in their hearing, Vanyr replied stiffly.

  “As you wish, Major.”

  She moved farther away from the other men and he followed at some distance. Ky-shan and his son still watched his back like hungry sharks, their glances as piercing as daggers. Seeing this, Sullyan imagined Vanyr’s shoulder blades crawling with tension. She stopped just out of their earshot and faced him, raising her open gaze to his pale, hard eyes. Refusing to come too close, he stood staring, balanced lightly on his feet as if expecting attack.

  She sighed. “Commander, I know you bear me no love, nor would I expect it. I wish you to know, however, that I hold no grudge against you for your actions the other day. Nor did I have anything to do with, or knowledge of, the beating you received. I do not condone it and would certainly have stopped it had I known.”

  If this little speech affected Vanyr, he showed no sign.

  “Yes, Major, so I was told.”

  She raised her brows. At least Ky-shan had made sure Vanyr knew exactly who was responsible for the retribution he had received.

  Coldly, he added, “Was there anything else?”

  She might have said more, but his tone forbade her. “No, Commander, I will not waste any more of your time.”

  He stared at her for an instant before turning on his heel and stalking to the Tower stairs. The pirates made a show of watching him depart, but he studiously avoided their eyes. Returning to her study of the battlefield with a closed look on her face, Sullyan chose not to respond to either Robin’s or Pharikian’s enquiring looks.

  The battle proper commenced later that day. The archers and crossbowmen had done their work, and now both sides let loose their mounted troops and infantry. The noise of the two forces coming together was clearly audible for miles around.

  By nightfall, little progress had been achieved. The fighting was fierce but tactical, neither side committing to an all-out push, merely trying each other’s strengths and employing subtle feints here and there to draw out pockets of men where they could be surrounded and cut off. All that day, the watchers on the Tower saw no sign of Rykan himself. The Duke stayed concealed in his command tent, issuing orders through his general, Lord Sonten.

  As night fell and the battlefield slowly vanished under the smothering winter darkness, both armies retreated to their own lines. All that could be seen from the Citadel were the thousands of flickering campfires dotting the Plains with their firebug glow. Briefly, Sullyan entertained a wicked desire to tamper with Rykan’s fire and set his tent alight, but there was no wind, and although she could influence Air, she did not yet have full Mastery. Pharikian did, but as Supreme Ruler he was constrained by the Codes not to interfere in a metaphysical sense in the outcome of this battle.

  Exhausted by the constant worry, they went to rest, Sullyan deciding to check on Marik before she retired. On entering the infirmary, she and Robin found the situation unchanged save for the presence of Deshan, who was doing his rounds. There was a steady stream of wounded coming in to the healers, and they were overwhelmed. Seeing this, Sullyan offered an hour or so of her time. Robin worked alongside her, using his powers to soothe nerves, numb pain, and begin healing where he could.

  Looking up from a gut wound she feared would not repair, Sullyan glanced at her lover as he worked. She smiled, knowing that his skills and strength of mind were well able to support Master Artesan status. It saddened and gladdened her both, for it was unlikely she would see him confirmed. At least she could rely on Mathias Blaine to accomplish that for her. The sudden blur of tears in her eyes brought her back to the task in hand.

  Eventually, Deshan thanked them and shooed them away. Before leaving to rest, they looked into the small room occupied by Marik and the ever-present Idrimar. Bowing her head to the Princess, who looked pale and careworn, Sullyan crossed to the bed and looked down on the sleeping face of her friend. Idrimar stared at her pleadingly, hoping for some confirmation of improvement, but Sullyan was loath to probe Marik while he was drugged.

  Gently, she bade the Princess be patient. “You can call me any time of night or day, Highness,” she added. “If you are worried or need anything, just send someone for me. I will always come to you.”

  “Thank you, Lady Brynne,” said Idrimar, her deep voice tight with tears. Her eyes were damp, but her face wore a wan smile. “If he doesn’t fully recover, it won’t be for lack of care.”

  “Of that I have no doubt,” said Sullyan, stroking Marik’s hand where it lay outside the covers. “We can only hope now, Highness. Deshan and I did all we could. The rest is
up to the Count.”

  Trailed by Ky-shan and Ki-en, she and Robin returned to their rooms. Consoling themselves in each other’s love, they eventually fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Taran woke with a start to find Bull standing over him. Taran squinted in the gloom, guessing it was just before dawn. Bull moved on to Cal and Rienne, shaking their shoulders urgently and hissing for them all to move.

  “What is it, Bull?” said Taran, hurrying to draw on his outer clothes against the cold drizzle. It didn’t take him long. They all slept fully clothed, wrapped in their cloaks for comfort.

  “Company,” rasped Bull, kicking over what remained of the fire and using a little water to make sure it was fully out. Stamping on the ash to stop the smoke, he pulled a small pile of dead leaves and twigs over the remains before covering everything with pine boughs left ready for the purpose. Then he ran for the horses and helped Taran saddle up.

  They had kept the camp tidy and free of refuse for just such an emergency. Even the horses’ droppings were scattered away from the site. Any evidence of their stay was quickly hidden, and the frozen ground bore few traces save what was there before they had arrived. Mounting swiftly, cold and tension making him tremble, Taran sent out his senses. Immediately he encountered what he guessed was a small party of Rykan’s men, probably foraging. There were about ten of them, and they were carrying hunting bows as well as longswords. Hastily, he showed Bull what he had found.

  “There’s no point trying to kill them,” hissed the big man. “Three against ten are bad odds. Leaving them alone is the safest option. We can’t risk capture or discovery.”

  Beckoning to the others, Bull led them away from the foragers and into the dripping woods.

  * * * * *

  The small band of Andaryan warriors moved stealthily through the bare trees. Commander Heron had given Lieutenant Arif orders to scout the area, but Arif was nervous this close to the Citadel and feeling vulnerable so far away from his fellows. He had no choice, though, as the meat ration allotted their section of the army was dwindling and the supply trains were either late or had been intercepted by the enemy. Commander Heron, unwilling to bother General Sonten with such trivial matters at this crucial stage of the campaign, had made the decision to send Arif and his group out overnight to bag what they could.

  So far the pickings were lean—a couple of small pigs and one scrawny deer—and the Lieutenant wanted to try the area around this small hill before turning back. He needed to have his men back under cover by full light, so he made only a cursory examination of the knoll. As he had feared, there was no game in sight. Frustrated, he was about to give the order to return when the faint smell of smoke caught his attention. Cautiously, suspecting a unit of the enemy stationed on this ideal lookout spot, he ordered his men to search.

  His eyes narrowed when they uncovered the doused fire, but there was no one in evidence and no sign of long term occupation. Eventually assuming that some village hunter had spent the night there, he called his men off. He would report the matter to Heron, but he doubted the Commander would pursue it. He led his band away, melting back into the forest.

  * * * * *

  “Well,” huffed Bull, his breath steaming in the chilly air, “that was a close call.”

  Nodding, Taran slid from his horse.

  Rienne’s worried grey eyes searched the trees. “Do you think it’s safe for us here, now?”

  “I think so.” Bull gave his horse’s reins to Taran and threw back his hood. “They were only hunting, and they won’t have found much game round here thanks to Cal’s success with that bow. I doubt they’ll be back. We’ll do the same as before, keep constant watches and make sure we can decamp at a moments’ notice. Well done, everyone, we managed that very smoothly. Now, let’s rekindle that fire. I need some fellan!”

  * * * * *

  Sullyan was thinking the same thing and was about to put the kettle over the hearth when a rapid knock sounded at the door. Crossing swiftly to open it, she found one of the Princess’ pages outside, hopping frantically from foot to foot.

  “Lady Brynne,” he panted, “Her Highness says please will you come?”

  She didn’t bother with questions. Luckily, she had thrown on a shirt and breeches before tending the fire so she didn’t need time to dress. Leaving Robin to follow if he chose, she waved the page on.

  Arriving at the infirmary, still in darkness and quiet from the night shift, she found the Princess in a rare state outside Marik’s room. On seeing her, Idrimar broke into sobs, causing the Major to fear the worst. Taking the older woman by the shoulders, she sent her calming thoughts. Idrimar had no control over her own metaforce, but Sullyan’s much deeper energies reached in to steady her.

  “Slowly, Highness,” she soothed. “Tell me what has happened.”

  Idrimar took a couple of deep, sobbing breaths. “He’s in such pain, Lady! He woke about an hour ago, but he’s been moaning and crying out for much of the night. The healers gave him pain relief, but it’s not working. He doesn’t know anyone and he won’t keep still. I’m so afraid he’ll damage himself. Deshan was here until the early hours, and I didn’t want to wake him, he’s so worn out. You did say you’d come, Lady, but I know you’re exhausted too ....”

  “You were right to call me, Highness. I told you I would come if you needed me. Now, you say he has great pain. Do you know where?”

  “What? No ... no.” The Princess was wringing her hands. “But he was muttering in his sleep about his legs hurting and I—”

  “His legs?” Sullyan stepped quickly past Idrimar and entered Marik’s dimly lit room. The healer by his bed was trying desperately to calm the Count, who was barely conscious. His body streamed with sweat and his face bore an agonized look. Despite the poor light, Sullyan could see that his skin was grey from pain and he was trying to thrash around, although a strapped shoulder and tightly bandaged torso made that difficult. Sullyan moved to his side.

  The healer glanced up. “I’ll have to send for Deshan, Lady. I’ve given him pain relief, but it’s having no effect. If I can’t calm him, he’s going to damage himself.”

  “Let me try.” Gently, Sullyan moved the woman away. Idrimar approached the other side of the bed, fingers gripped tightly together. Sullyan placed one hand on the Count’s sweaty brow and took his left hand. She felt her eyes dilating as she reached to Marik’s psyche. The Count’s eyes, which were darting frantically about the room, suddenly ceased their movement and locked with hers.

  “Easy, my friend, you are safe now. I am here and you are safe. Be easy now, rest quietly.”

  Talking softly all the while, she eased some of his pain. It was impossible to tell where it was coming from, but hot agony was searing through him, and in his semi-drugged state he couldn’t deal with it. The sedative the healer had given him was also blocking Sullyan to some extent, and she wished the woman had called someone before administering the dose. Finally, she eased Marik enough to allow his consciousness to surface. Retracting her mind, she sat on the bed and used a cloth dipped in cool herbal water to wipe some of the sweat from his face. Looking into his pale grey eyes, she smiled.

  “Hello, Ty.”

  She said it softly, giving him time to recognize her. The Princess, watching anxiously, held her breath. The Count seemed to struggle for a moment. Then, weakly, he said, “Hello, yourself.”

  Idrimar immediately dissolved into tears and Sullyan was glad she wasn’t a noisy weeper. Marik hadn’t noticed she was there. His head was turned toward Sullyan.

  “How is the pain now, my friend?”

  He thought before replying. “Better, but it still feels like someone’s pushing red hot needles into my legs.”

  She grinned and he glared. “It’s nothing to smile about!”

  “Ah, but it is.” She rose. “I am sorry, my friend, this might hurt a little. Do you think you can bear it?”

  A look of fear came over his face. “I do
n’t know! What are you going to do?”

  Idrimar stopped crying long enough to protest, “Hasn’t he been hurt enough? Leave him alone. I’m not going to let you touch him!” Coming round the end of the bed, she advanced threateningly on Sullyan.

  Marik saw her. “Idri!” He held out his hand and the Princess pushed Sullyan out of the way so she could take her place at Marik’s side. Unnoticed by either of them, Sullyan moved down to the end of the bed where she slid her hand under the bedclothes. Swiftly, she pinched each of the Count’s feet. His squeak of pain told her what she wanted to know.

  Idrimar rounded angrily on her. “What do you think you’re doing? I said leave him alone!”

  Deshan came into the room and stopped, staring at the infuriated Princess. Not noticing her father right behind him, Idrimar pointed at Sullyan. “Get her out of here!”

  Both men looked at the Major, who grinned unrepentantly back.

  “What are you smiling at?” snapped Idrimar.

  Sullyan ignored the overwrought Princess. “Your pardon, Ty. It was the only way to test whether you could feel your feet.”

  The Count’s eyes widened. “Feel my ...? Well, why wouldn’t I?”

  She came closer, keeping the bed between her and the Princess. “You have had a nasty spinal injury, Ty, and we were not sure whether it would permanently affect your legs. It seems it has not.” Turning to Idrimar, she said, “I am sorry I frightened you, Highness, but it was necessary. At least we now know the Count will make a full recovery.”

  Dissolving into tears once more, Idrimar sobbed an apology. Sullyan stood smiling down at Marik, who was just realizing what a close call he had had. He reached out his good hand. It was shaking.

  Sullyan clasped it. “Deshan did all the hard work,” she said, ignoring the physician’s snort, “and you must be patient, rest as much as possible. You have other hurts which also need to mend. We will leave you in peace. Her Highness will tell you the outcome of your bravery, but then you must sleep again. I will see you later, my friend, but right now I need some strong fellan.”