by Guy Antibes
Did he want to see the princess? Did he want to see the Moonstone again? He decided he did want to visit Fessano. “No. I’d like to see the wizard.”
Mander nodded. “I’ll arrange that, but I think it’s time you met Captain Applewood. He will direct the scouting and conventional forces. Report to the General first.”
~
The injury hurt more after Fessano had worked on her shoulder than before. He did warn her and Restella frowned in the morning light. She ached to get back out in the field and refused to get used to her soft, warm bed. She threw off the covers and stood in the middle of her bedroom. Fessano had fashioned a sling for her left arm, still leaving her hand free.
She ground her teeth remembering his words that she would have to stay out of action for at least a month for the damaged muscle to heal. A month! But the alternative might be the loss of the use of her arm. She couldn’t help but pace as anger built up inside of her. She recognized it for frustration and tried to calm her nerves by reaching for her sword.
Restella had to struggle to get it out of its scabbard and examined the blade for nicks. There were a few big ones that would have to be worked out. As Forthwith’s charge entered her mind she instinctively flicked her left arm as she went through the deflection of the lance with her shield.
The pain stopped her thoughts and she dropped her sword onto the soft rug. She had to step out of its path to keep the still-sharp edge from cutting her bare feet. Patience, she schooled herself. She knelt down and put the sword back in the sheath and sat down. Did she have the patience?
Taking a few deep breaths, she ran her fingers over the Moonstone and instantly felt the link with Lotto. So strong! Could he be in the castle? Certainly in Beckondale. She dreamed of the little half-wit the previous night. Why did he intrude on her dreams?
She let the sheathed sword fall again to her feet in an attack of panic. She dreaded meeting him again even after the reassurance of Fessano and Mander that the boy harbored no ill will towards her and wouldn’t seek to retrieve the gem. After all, she had paid him a few gold pieces for the stone.
The thought instantly shamed her. As much as she was loath to admit, they shared the stone even if it did sit in the pommel of her sword. Lotto controlled the power, but perhaps control didn’t convey the right meaning. Through the link, she achieved the extra height and strength that she needed to fight among soldiers. Fessano said that Lotto had changed, too.
Restella wondered what he looked like. Mander said he was a good looking lad and of noble stock, after all. Fessano told her that he possessed a certain naiveté that came from his intelligence, bursting out so late in his life when they bonded to the stone. How could such a thing happen? She grasped the hilt in her right hand and tried to make a few passes, but it all felt so awkward not using her left for balance.
Baron Forthwith had no honor. Her frustration returned as she put the sword down on the table next to her and tried to puzzle out why the baron would come after her in such a vicious fashion? Fessano refused to say what happened to her former foe.
She rang the bell for her maid. Mander Hart might have a clue.
~
Lotto dried his palms on his trousers as Gully and he stood in front of the general’s door. He’d never met a general before and he had visions of a gruff man without humor who delighted in grinding young recruits to dust underneath his heel.
The door opened and a lieutenant walked out.
“Silver!” Gully said. The two men embraced. “Good to see you! We’re here…”
“I know. I wish in some ways that I’d be joining you, but I have another assignment, just now.” He grinned, but stopped when he heard someone clearing his throat. “You can’t keep General Reallo waiting. I’ll catch up with you later, Lieutenant.”
Lotto could tell that Gully wanted to introduce him to this Silver fellow, but they stepped into the general’s office. He stood at what he thought was attention. Lotto never did get the chance to learn much in the way of army etiquette during his abruptly truncated training experience. He looked over at Gully and tried to mimic his salute and stance making the general laugh.
“At ease, the both of you,” Reallo said, still laughing. The man’s sharp eyes would have scared Lotto, but they crinkled with humor. The general looked tall and fit, if a bit older than he expected. “You, I surmise, are the rogue known as Gully Workman. Well, Captain Hessa retired while you labored away, so you won’t have to worry about crossing paths with him again. He is happily married to the same woman, who you knew too well, so stay away from the both of them, and that’s an order.”
Gully stared at the wall behind the general. “Yes sir, General, sir.”
The general swiveled his eyes at Lotto. “And you are the mysterious protégé of Mander Hart. You have a lot of compliments to live up to. He told me that you studied arms under Kenyr, the Serytar, is that correct?”
“Yes sir,” Lotto said. He’d never felt so frightened in his life in front of this man despite his casual demeanor.
“Have you ever sparred with Workman?”
“With sticks and wooden swords, sir.”
The eyes turned back to Gully. “And your assessment, Lieutenant?”
An edge softened in Gully’s stance. “He’s better with a sword than I am and a lot of other weapons, I’d surmise. Although he hasn’t been trained in archery, sir.”
“I suppose you can correct that, can’t you? Mander has set up his own band of furtive rascals like himself. You will be assigned to my command except when Mander and the king want something special done. He’s going to call you allrangers rather than scouts.” Reallo shrugged. “When you’re in the field, you’ll be penetrating the borders of our enemies to assess what’s going on. You’ll go in as units, so you won’t be spies, but you’ll be reporting whatever you find to both Mander and me.
“You’ll be assigned to Captain Applewood. He will command a regular army with a large contingent of rangers. Lieutenant Gully, you’ll be leading the rangers reporting to Applewood. Is that clear?”
The general scribbled additional words on both of their papers and held them out. Gully didn’t know which one to take. Lotto realized that the man didn’t know how to read script. He quickly pulled his own out. The general squinted at him as he took it. “Good luck, lad. Learn all you can from this scoundrel. Apart from Lieutenant Silver who you ran into as you came in, Gully is reportedly one of the best we’ve got… or he will be once he’s back in the field. Dismissed!”
Gully turned on his heel with a military about face that Lotto couldn’t begin to do and followed him out, closing the door softly behind him. He noticed the sweat on Gully’s forehead.
“General Reallo and Captain Hessa were like father and son to each other. I guess time heals all wounds.”
“As long as you don’t open them up again, eh?” Lotto laughed as he followed Gully down the corridor deeper into the barracks and away from the castle proper. He didn’t feel as comfortable as he tried to act. He wiped his palms again and looked around, trying to drink in the feeling of the army barracks attached to the castle.
Gully could only nod as he asked an orderly for directions to Captain Applewood’s office. Lotto listened in and redirected his friend twice before they knocked on the door.
“Come.” A strong voice came in from behind the door. The captain stood as they entered. He had been polishing a sword on his bed. “I don’t merit an office in the castle. Since I’m generally out in the field, I use my quarters for both.” Applewood shrugged, “It works.” He gave them half a smile as his attention turned to the orders both of them thrust in his hands.
“Gully Workman. You are a bit of a legend. A bit of good and a bit of bad.” The captain pointed his finger and looked levelly at Gully. “Your past means nothing to me, just how you can serve the king going forward, understood?”
Gully nodded. “Yes sir, Captain.”
“Lotto. Got a last name, Lotto? I can’t go
around calling you by your first name all the time. Where are you from?”
“Heron’s Pond, but my father’s name was Mistad. I’m joined up as Lotto Mistad. I guess Mander Hart forgot to put down my last name.”
Applewood grunted and looked intently at the sword at Lotto’s waist. “Mistad from Serytar? Know Kenyr?”
“I do, he’s my trainer.”
The captain nodded and looked further down the order page at the general’s scribbles. “Given your recent history with Workman, here, can you follow his orders? If you can, Mander Hart suggests that I post you to his unit as a sergeant. We don’t typically give new recruits a commission, but Lord Hart says you bring in some special talents. If you screw up badly, you’ll end up as one of the troops. I’m relying on you not to prove Mander Hart wrong.”
“I won’t let you down, sir.”
“I like to hear that ‘sir’. A lot of new recruits forget to use it.” The captain put their orders in a folio on his tiny desk and pulled out a couple of ruled forms. “Your uniforms are green and brown, but cut like the coat on the chair. We’d rather you not be seen while you all flit around through the forest. Got it?”
Both of them agreed.
“You get to go to the regimental tailor for the uniforms. Do it before the morning is out so your uniforms will be ready tomorrow afternoon. Workman, teach this man how to salute and stand at attention. We’ll get together for dinner in the Red Room at the barracks mess tomorrow at five hours after noon. Until then, enjoy Beckondale. Dismissed and close the door behind you.” The captain had already turned his attention back to his weapons when Lotto secured the latch.
Gully rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Applewood is a good man. He came up through the Eastern Forces, but I heard of him. He’s got a good head on his shoulders. Let’s get measured up and then eat some lunch. We’ll be friends for another day and then I’ll be your lieutenant and our relationship will have to change a bit, understand?”
Lotto nodded, but didn’t quite understand. He wondered exactly how things would change, but he was excited that his soldiering days had really started.
The tailor grunted and complained about the uniforms. They were made out of a wool cloth that cost twice as much as normal. He muttered something about stretch and strength. Lotto couldn’t really understand nor did he really care since he’d never worn a real uniform. The rags that he wore at the training camp were well used and nothing like what he noticed the soldiers wore in the barracks. They left and Gully asked another soldier for an appropriate tavern to spend the rest of the day. Lotto just followed Gully. He felt like a puppy or something running after its master.
The ambience of the tavern for their midday meal left something to be desired for Lotto, but Gully seemed to love being in his element. It seemed he knew more than a few of the soldiers who made up most of the clientele, including a few dressed in the green and brown of the rangers. Lotto thought they looked rather rumpled next to the thick wool tunics worn by the regular troops.
“Those men put armor over their uniforms. The wool’s got to be thick to pad the armor. For our boys, let me call one over.” He pointed at a ranger and called him over.
“What’s yer name?” Gully said. “I’m Lieutenant Workman, newly assigned to the rangers and my friend, Sergeant Mistad, and I wondered what standard issue is for us.”
“Ranger Pesso, sir. I’ll be assigned to your unit.” The man didn’t salute, but stood a little straighter. “We are issued a chamois shirt with a mail shirt that has removable sleeves. For battle, we have leather corsets with metal plates and full metal epaulettes.”
“What about hats, Pesso?” Gully said.
“We have a soft beret for regular duty and a rounded helm that fits over the ears for battle. Arms are whatever you bring, except all men carry bows or crossbows and a spear or iron-tipped staff. Is that all, Lieutenant?”
“Get back to your mates. I don’t have to get back until dinner tomorrow night.”
No ‘sir’ or ‘dismissed’ in the tavern. Lotto had no idea how to behave under any of these circumstances.
“He didn’t salute or anything,” Lotto said.
“Ah, the niceties of military drill. Other than calling one another by your last name or by your rank, in a tavern, you only need to be polite.” Gully then continued to cram military etiquette into Lotto all the way through lunch, dinner and breakfast.
Lotto broke off his practical education the next morning to visit Fessano. He found the wizard slowly walking the interminable stairway up to his eyrie. Lotto joined him.
“Lotto! I heard you had arrived. You’ve had a devastating effect on Princess Restella.”
“Dreams?”
“You know?”
“The last two nights, she’s been somewhere in my dreams. It’s a little disconcerting, but I imagine it’s the Moonstone.”
“Indeed it is. Have you been practicing any magic?”
Lotto reluctantly shook his head, even though Fessano was a couple of steps ahead of him. “I’ve lit a few lamps and that is all.”’ Neither said another word until Fessano stood at his door, catching his breath.
“I don’t suppose you had any books to read while you toiled in the Bluerock mines?” The wizard unlocked his door and walked to a bookcase. He pulled out a little book.
“My gift. You can keep it with you on the road. Read it regularly. It’s a pocket guide for battle wizards, so you should find the spells useful in your new role. You can knock down trees and call down lightning, if the clouds are dense enough. It’s all in the little handbook. Practice your magic a little each day, but take care. Once your power is depleted, it takes time to recharge from the nexus. If you practice, the recovery time will be reduced.”
“What about the dreams?”
Fessano rubbed his bare head. “I imagine it’s the link. When you two are close by, it gets stronger. She dreams of you, as well, Lotto.”
He didn’t know what to think. A princess dreaming of him? It just didn’t make sense, but then he dreamed of her. “She’s never seen me after I… grew.”
“Her picture of you is what you looked like when you first met. Perhaps I should arrange a face-to-face meeting.”
“Don’t do that!” Panic shot through his system. He felt embarrassed. “I’m just a commoner and I wouldn’t know how to act in front of royalty.”
Fessano waved his hand dismissively. “Hardly. You are the son of a duke with pure noble Serytaran blood. You mustn’t demean yourself.”
“I don’t.”
“You do,” Fessano said. “It’s one of your endearing characteristics, but you can’t let it get in the way of soldiering.”
“But I have so much to learn.” Lotto panicked. He felt totally inadequate in the castle except in Mander’s presence. He still didn’t quite trust Fessano.
Fessano put his hand on Lotto’s shoulder. “And that is what makes you extraordinary. What other nineteen year old can wield a sword, or recite history or light a lamp with power? You are unique and every thing you learn makes you that much more unique. Indeed, that can be said of anybody, but especially of you, Lotto. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll arrange to have Restella see you in the barracks, from afar. You might not even see her, but then if she dreams it will be of you as you are now.”
The words made sense and that comforted him, just a bit. It wouldn’t hurt for the princess to have a current image of him as long as he didn’t have to meet her face to face. Didn’t he come to Beckondale to see the princess in the first place, so long ago? Now he recoiled at the thought of meeting her and the contradiction made him seem like a fool. He felt miserable all the way back down to the barracks, but once he got onto the training ground, he had the means to work out his frustration with the princess and with himself. When it came to weaponry, Lotto had the confidence that he could hold his own against most men.
~~~
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
~
FESSANO
WALKED AT RESTELLA’S SIDE as they entered the gallery overlooking the training grounds. Ten or fifteen pairs sparred with each other on the packed dirt of the arena. Some men fought in silence and others yelled when hit or taunted their opponent. Restella loved the sounds of practice and longed to be down with the soldiers sparring with their weapons, but her wound was far from healed.
She didn’t need Fessano’s help to spot Lotto. He fought with a staff. She could tell he measured up his opponent, lightly sparring and feinting. Lotto impressed her with his patience and then he struck with his staff, taking advantage of some weakness that she couldn’t spot from her vantage point.
“He’s grown into a man—a very capable man,” Restella said, shocked by the affect of the link.
“Indeed,” Fessano said. “You can feel the link?”
“I can close my eyes and point to him.” She did so. She opened her eyes and Lotto had stopped fighting and gawked up at her. His face turned red and he left the grounds in a rush.
“He’s bashful. You’re a princess and you are one of the few who know what he looked like before the Moonstone transformed him.”
Restella didn’t know what to think as a few of the soldiers hailed her and saluted. She painfully returned their salute even though she didn’t wear a uniform.
“That’s disconcerting, to say the least,” Restella said as she turned back to re-enter the castle. “He’s actually turned out to be handsome and well-built.” Her words could not convey the excitement she felt within herself at seeing him. She no longer had to think of him as the half-wit, but as a capable soldier. It made her feel considerably better about being linked to the new Lotto, rather than the old. She played with her fingers and didn’t notice anything Fessano said as he escorted her back to her apartment to give her another treatment on the injured arm.
~
Lotto concentrated on using the iron-shod staff, going through the motions that Kenyr had drilled into him. He liked the weighting of the staff much better than a spear, but he wondered if he could get a point put on his staff, thinking back to the poker that still sat by the fireplace in the bookshop, as well as remembering a long iron tool he used to clean out seams in the mines.
