Moonstone, Magic That Binds (Book 1)

by Guy Antibes

  He squeezed the grip of his practice sword and then did the same for his long knife. Both were blunted blades, but he’d gone through two sets, each heavier than the last in the three months during his training. He grimaced at the thought of one last match for the day.

  He bowed to his opponent. The man had to be ten years older and seemed like he had been raised with a sword in one hand and one of those little bucklers in the other.

  Lotto had won the first match and the man fought to even things up. After the first month, Kenyr never gave Lotto an easy opponent. Lotto could win, but always at some cost. Today, he suffered a slash to his thigh and the bruise felt like he carried a lead ball inside his leg. However, he had caught the little dip that his opponent made with his buckler before an overhead blow. Kenyr said that finding the weaknesses demanded patience, but everyone had quirks and it would pay off if you could detect it soon enough to make the other man pay.

  His opponent’s actions seemed slower in the third match. Lotto narrowed his eyes. The man was more fit than he was, so Lotto put that down for a ploy. He fought until he saw the dip and as the overhead smash came down, Lotto kneeled, using his sword to deflect the blow and lunged with his long knife in underneath the hand shield that always came up with the move. He felt the man’s padding stop the progress with the knife, but not before he heard a grunt, signaling victory.

  “Excellent Lotto. You, too, Hari. I liked that slow-up. It will work against lesser opponents than Lotto.” Kenyr said. “Time’s up. Lotto, stick around for a bit. Did you bring your father’s weapons?”

  Lotto nodded as he wiped his face again. Hari, being the loser would do the mopping after the last match.

  “I want you to do one short sparring match with me, with the real blades.”

  “But I haven’t touched these since you first gave them to me.”

  Kenyr wiggled his finger at him. “My house, my orders,” he said as he picked out two short swords.

  The weapons were retrieved and Lotto rubbed his hand on the grips and then stood with them in the middle of the floor while Kenyr put chain mail over the padded tunic that he always wore.

  “Your weapon is too sharp for practice clothes and so are mine.” Kenyr grinned. “Now show me a few forms before we get started.”

  Lotto shrugged into a mail shirt and began to move his feet and swing his weapons. He had expected the awkwardness in the blade that he felt when he first swung it quite a while ago, but now the sword felt perfectly balanced as he went through the practice. He stopped and smiled at Kenyr.

  “You are ready to use the weapons, but not in my school, except for this one time. The last practice sword that I gave you matched your father’s sword well enough.”

  “He must have been a good swordsmen then.”

  Kenyr moved through a few warm-up forms and nodded. “That he was. The magic attack slowed him up that day. He knew it and let me go to save you and to hide the stone. Now show me what you’ve got. Beware, these are edged weapons and will do more damage than your practice swords.”

  They bowed to each other and began to spar. The sword felt like an extension of his hand, but Lotto knew that Kenyr played with him. Still, he learned certain characteristics as they moved across the floor. Kenyr stutter-stepped with his foot when he faked a back-handed slash and then he backed up. Lotto committed to moving forward at the next step.

  Kenyr made the step and Lotto moved in and received the flat of Kenyr’s blade on his head. He staggered and fell senseless to the floor.

  Lotto opened his eyes seeing the blurred image of Kenyr’s grin.

  “You sit there for a bit longer and gather your wits. I’ve been watching you tear my students to pieces because you’ve been sensitive to their moves. I don’t make that step and retreat move normally, so I repeated it so you thought I’d duplicate the move again. You’re eyes gave you away as well as an intake of your breath. Don’t be fooled again.”

  Lotto’s vision had cleared. He gingerly felt the lump at the top of his head. In a real fight he’d be lying on the floor with his brains on the wrong side of his skull. “Thank you,” he said. He didn’t really feel appreciation, but he had learned his lesson.

  “Now, how do you like the sword?”

  “Until you knocked me senseless, I didn’t even think about it.”

  Kenyr sat down on the floor with Lotto and slapped his knee. “I could tell. You nearly looked like your father out there.” Kenyr shook his head and sighed. “What a tragedy.”

  “Tell me something. Were you the man that Mander sent to look out for me?”

  “I wouldn’t call it ‘looking out for you’, Lotto. Just keeping track. Mander sent others to Heron’s Pond through the years as well.” Kenyr stopped.

  “You didn’t like to see me in my former state?”

  “No. I didn’t and I felt badly about it. Perhaps the enemy’s magic had stunted your growth and without the Moonstone, you’d still be eating from the village’s garbage.” Kenyr pursed his lips. “I think the goddess of Fate has better things in store for you, Lotto.”

  ~

  The soldiers left the supply wagons assigned to their splinter group in a clearing five hundred paces from Baron Jiffero’s castle, the other noble who had defected to the Oringians. Restella thrilled to be part of the smaller fighting group. Fighting. She might get another chance and this time Lieutenant Hanni led the group and he had already given her permission to work closely with him as he commanded the unit.

  She already felt like part of the army, even in her lowly position and she could feel her competence grow as she approached the goal of actually becoming a warrior. Another engagement, she thought. Learning how to lead fighting soldiers could broaden her perspective.

  Lieutenant Hanni and Restella viewed their objective from within the tree line in the twilight.

  “The scouts report no troops or signs of any Oringians within two leagues.” Hanni said.

  “Can we get someone to look inside the castle? Is it open during the day? Do the inhabitants of the village that hugs the north and west walls have any idea what’s going on?” Restella looked at Silver.

  “That’s a lot of questions, ma’am. I know of a few men who might not mind spending an evening in the village’s tavern.” He grinned.

  “Then do it,” Restella said and looked at Hanni. “Excuse me Lieutenant, the order should come from you.”

  “By all means Silver, go. We’ll keep a picket watch some paces into the forest and attack at dawn, if the information indicates that Jiffero’s castle and the village aren’t harboring a horde of Oringians.”

  “I’ll relay the command, sir,” Silver said and disappeared into the woods.

  Lieutenant Hanni turned his horse around.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to observe the castle for a bit more,” Restella said. “The setting is too serene given the fact that Earl Louson suffered a defeat and I would expect a heightened sense of activity.”

  “Suit yourself, Beecher.” Hanni continued back through the woods, quietly commanding that the soldiers fall back to the wagons when the watch arrived.

  Lieutenant Hanni didn’t seem to be too interested in her observations and Restella wondered how Hanni would perform in a real war. Like her, he’d never been involved in more than a simple skirmish before, nothing as unsettling as the attack on Louson’s keep. It seemed he hadn’t engaged his mind to ferret out the possibilities of the situation. She refused to think that narrowly and that fact energized her. After seeing how the unexpected nearly wiped out the Captain’s command, she felt that officers should think harder about the situation rather than just react. Hanni seemed to be a reaction kind of person.

  Luck had saved the day along with a little common sense at Louson’s keep. Perhaps luck played a larger part in war than what made her comfortable, but merely reacting, just drawing a sword when your opponent drew theirs didn’t seem to be the path to long-range success. She would have to think harder and a
nticipate more from a strategic point of view than she ever had on the practice field. Restella settled in for a long wait.

  She had stood by her horse for some time, letting the cold weather seep into her bones, when three men speaking with loud voices walked up the road to her right and disappeared into the village. Silver’s men. She hoped her idea didn’t turn out to be a death sentence for any of them. The night began to liven up as villagers walked the streets. Perhaps the tavern didn’t open until after dark. That would make sense if the wives kept their husbands home to reduce their drinking time. She smiled at the thought.

  After the initial flurry of activity, the evening settled down.

  “Could you move back a little, lieutenant? We’d rather set up watch a bit deeper in the woods and it wouldn’t do to have you in front of us,” a soldier said. He must have come up to relieve the first watch.

  “I’ll stay here, soldier, until I’m ready to leave. Just don’t shoot any arrows my way. There may be a few of our men in the village. If you see three of them running for the forest, let them pass and capture the pursuers as quietly as you can.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We weren’t told.”

  “You’ve been told now. See that your men know. I’ll stay for a bit longer,” Restella said.

  She had just about given up on the scouts when they walked out of the village, talking in lower tones than when they entered. Restella stayed to observe.

  About halfway to the woods, riders emerged from the village with swords raised. The men began to run, but they wouldn’t make it to edge of the forest before being overtaken.

  Restella waited until the last minute to mount up and pull her sword. The soldier who talked to her before came up to her side. “Want us to help them?”

  “I do, but I’ll have to ride out in front of you and delay the riders until your men can converge. Send a soldier to Lieutenant Hanni informing him that there are enemy troops in the village.” Restella had no more time to lose, swatted her horse on the rump and charged the riders.

  She counted six of them. Could she divert their attention from the scouts without getting herself killed? That wouldn’t be a question in another moment. She pulled the sword from her scabbard, feeling that pulse of strength the Moonstone always lent her. Riding between the pursuers and the pursued, she decided to close with the man on the far side.

  Their shock gave her a momentary advantage, as she cut one man down and began to subdue another. The pursuers stopped to ring her mount. She swatted them away, but their additional strength would wear down her reserves quickly, but the scouts would serve another day. Her wait lasted the time it took for the scouts to turn and attack the mounted riders. Arrows flew from the forest and newly-arrived soldier’s pikes kept the mounted riders from cutting down the scouts who finally retreated into the woods dragging the one remaining pursuer back with them.

  “We’ll have to attack right now,” Silver said, his face filthy with sweat and dirt from fighting the pursuers. She didn’t realize that he had gone into the village with two other men. Restella had saved them all.

  Lieutenant Hanni rode up with a squad of ten men and dithered. “What proof do we have that we have sufficient forces?”

  “I offer you no proof other than the fact that two Oringians left the tavern, telling their six friends that they’ll see them tomorrow afternoon with reinforcements. We rose to leave and one of the men asked the barmaid if she knew us. When she shook her head we had to retreat quickly.”

  Hanni chewed the end of his long mustache. “All right. You were closest to the castle, what do you suggest, Silver?”

  Silver looked at Restella. He said, “Why don’t you take the village, Lieutenant Hanni and secure it? Try to get the villagers to help you. From what I can tell, they don’t even know that Jiffero has changed sides. The Oringians don’t exactly have a positive reputation in the treatment of Valetans.”

  “I’ll take the castle,” Restella said. “The scouts can climb the walls and open the gate unless there are too many inside. If that’s the case, then we will surround the open area and attack the reinforcements, preventing them from entering the castle, and do what we can to lay siege until Captain Shortwell can send us additional men.”

  Silver nodded. “If reinforcements are requested, I’d imagine that the Baron doesn’t have too many men inside the castle grounds. Perhaps we can duplicate the strategy that worked at Louson and pin the Oringians between our forces and the castle walls.”

  Hanni grunted. ‘Let’s get moving then. Put some food in the men’s bellies and let’s get going.”

  Restella took her men to the backside of the castle. The moat that once protected the castle walls had long since turned into a grassy ditch and they had no problem moving men into place.

  The guards were only stationed at the front of the castle and one of Restella’s scouts expertly picked the lock to a posterior door permitting her unit to run silently into the castle with ease. Silver and her other three men followed close behind, clearing rooms as they invaded the castle itself. Obviously, Jiffero hadn’t expected Shortwell’s forces to attack so soon.

  They ran through one door too many and when they entered the great room of the castle, filled with armed men, laughing, singing and carousing. Restella began to slide out her sword.

  Silver wrapped his hand around her face and dragged her back as one of the other men silently shut the door.

  “What did you do that for?” Restella said, red-faced, as Silver released her in another empty room.

  “A scout doesn’t take on the army that he—or she, as the case may be—finds during reconnaissance. We have more than one hundred men outside to do that. You tell me now what shall we do…attack them with the five of us or plan an attack that won’t have you and me dying?”

  Restella glared at Silver, having a difficult time processing his words in the midst of her rage. She took a deep breath as meaning pierced through her emotion.

  “I’m not a scout, I’m a leader,” she said, taking a huge breath, “and leaders don’t take their troops into certain death for no reason.” She looked up at the ceiling, fighting against tears. “Thank you.”

  Restella had two of her men get another twenty of Hanni’s soldiers into the castle grounds. She gave them orders for ten of them to take out the gate and open it from within. The others increased the size of her force inside the castle and soon the corridors of the castle were filled with her fighters as the guards at the gates were silently dispatched.

  Lieutenant Hanni rode in with half of their force, ready to take the onslaught from inside the castle, closing the gate after him. The main castle doors opened and Jiffero’s fighters began to run out at the same time that Restella’s men flooded into the great room from her previous position at the back of the hall. The Valetan force began to eviscerate the enemy’s flank.

  The fight leaked out of the great room and into the courtyard. When the enemy realized that they were caught between two forces, they began to surrender, however Lord Jiffero and his officers began to fight their way towards the stables.

  Restella observed the move and thought it likely that a bolthole existed there, since the gate was closed. She took her men and ran towards the little group and fought with Jiffero over a cleared-out trap door in a horse stall.

  “Surrender!” Restella said.

  “A woman officer?” Jiffero sneered with his back still to the princess. “Ah, Princess Restella. I might have known. You’re along for the ride, pampered by your father’s indulgence. You’ll not get my sword voluntarily.” He turned as he drew his sword and began to attack Restella as his other men fought at his side.

  Restella drew Jiffero away from the trap door and as she did so the center of the fighting moved with her. She barely noticed Silver placing men guarding the escape route, when she blocked an overhead swipe. Jiffero meant to kill her and she would have to fight for her life. He continued to pound his two-handed sword down on her as if his blade was a g
reat hammer. The tactic worked as her helm became bent and the battered metal epaulets saved her shoulders from grievous injury. Restella got down on her knee and knew she could only take one more descending blow. The descending sword broke through her protection and cut into an epaulet. She gasped as she realized that his next blow might kill her. She quickly grabbed her knife from its sheath on her belt and rammed it up through Jiffero’s groin as he raised the sword over his head.

  The Baron gasped and then wailed as he dropped his sword. Through the pain in her shoulder, Restella took her sword and repeated the same thrust that she had with her knife except the sword went in much further. Jiffero took a shuddering breath and collapsed to the side.

  Jiffero’s men dropped their swords and raised their hands. The fight quickly ended for the other men as well.

  Restella sat back on the ground, clutching the shoulder of her sword arm. She nearly didn’t understand how a wound could hurt so much. Gritting her teeth, she looked wildly around for any who would attack. Silver ran to her side and began to take off her uniform jacket and the chain mail shirt underneath. She soon sat in a blood-soaked thin leather shirt.

  “Forgive me, Princess,” Silver said as he slit the top part of the shirt, revealing a blood-soaked shoulder. He knelt down and washed the wound down with water from a nearby barrel underneath a gutter pipe. A curved needle and thread were instantly in his hands as someone put a leather patch in Restella’s mouth. She gagged and spit the patch out. It tasted awful. A trooper gave her an indeterminate amount of strong liquor and asked her to clench the leather patch again.

  She gagged, but the alcohol that had slid down her throat numbed her sense of taste as well as her thinking. Her vision began to blur when a sharp point of pain intruded on her consciousness. She screamed, but then focused on clamping her mouth shut as the needle began to do its work. Before her wound had been properly sewn up, Restella fainted.

  ~~~