by Tony Roberts
The man saw who it was and bowed low. “Your majesty, forgive me. I’ve come from Efsia with a message from Turslenka. It arrived by sea this morning. The Emperor has captured Zofela and has executed Elmar. The war in Bragal is over. Kastania is victorious!” he raised a fist in triumph. More cheers broke out.
Jorqel’s heart sank. He’d hoped that for one wonderful moment that he had been bringing news of Sannia’s rescue. It was a wild and vain hope. He suddenly realised all were looking up at him. He had still to function as the governor of the province and the heir to the throne, no matter what his personal feelings were. “That’s excellent news! Spread it throughout the town, paste it up on street corners. I shall arrange a celebration in due course. Thank you for bringing the news. Come to my quarters at once.”
The messenger bowed and Jorqel called the castellan, Caras into his room. He gave the castellan the news of the Bragal war, and advised the messenger was on his way up. Caras bowed and left. A few moments later the messenger was there, escorted by two spear carrying guards. Jorqel accepted the messenger’s obeisance and pressed him for more information.
“Sire, the news was brought by the merchant ship that is bringing stone and timber to this town. It sailed from Turslenka five days ago. A rider came from Bragal bringing news of the victory into the city.”
“So it would have been ten days or more that my father took Zofela,” Jorqel mused. “The same day my betrothed was taken. A vile co-incidence. The gods play wretched tricks on us mortals at times.” He smiled tiredly. “Thank you for bringing the news. Go rest, eat, refresh yourself.”
The messenger bowed himself out. Jorqel summoned Caras once more. The castellan saluted and waited for the prince to speak. Jorqel was buckling on his sword and reaching for his cloak. “I am going to be absent for a couple of days, Caras. You can run things here while I am away. Prepare a victory celebration in Slenna to mark the end of the Bragal War. Hold it four day’s hence. I shall be back by then.”
Caras bowed. “Sire. May I ask where you are going?”
“You may,” Jorqel said darkly, “but I wish to keep that a secret. I will take ten of my bodyguard. A small number will remain here. Make sure my equine is saddled up.”
Caras saluted and left. Jorqel secured his cloak with a silver clasp around his shoulder and reached into his trunk for his boots. Made of stout leather and reaching almost to his knees, they were of the best quality that could be found in Kastania, and so they should. Jorqel was not going to go without full protection, and he slid into the left boot a slim dagger. Fighting in Bragal had taught him to carry more weaponry than normal. He had as a secondary weapon a solid headed mace, ribbed and decorated with engravings of fruit. Why the maker would wish to have that on a weapon of death was beyond Jorqel, but he liked it nonetheless, and it was weighted perfectly. Fighting on equineback sometimes needed a short weapon with an easy reach. Hacking with a sword needed time and space, and a melee didn’t always give you both.
Ten men were waiting for Jorqel outside the castle and he mounted up. They looked at him expectantly. “I’ll tell you where we’re going once we’re outside the walls.” Jorqel didn’t quite trust everybody within Slenna, and as long as there were rival factions in Kastania, one could never tell whether the man in your employ truly followed your orders, or was following those of an enemy.
They rode to the main Lodrian road where Jorqel halted, turning round to face his men. They formed a half circle around him. “Men, this day we are to ride to the estate of Lord Duras. It is my belief that he is involved in the kidnapping of my beloved Sannia, and we are to pay him a surprise visit. We must be quick, silent and purposeful. We will not travel by road, but go overland through the rough lands to the west.”
The men nodded and looked excited. None liked the Duras or their henchmen. They had a superior attitude about them; the Duras represented treachery, greed and all those aspects of society that belonged to filth, vermin and thieves. Time they did some cleaning up.
The land to the west rose gradually and they rode off the road into the countryside. During winter these slopes were blanketed with snow, but now they were free of that and small flowers and grasses were competing for the sun’s sustenance. The ground was soft and they cantered along a shallow vale with a few growths of bracken and gnarled trees scattered throughout its length. At the far end the land climbed steeply, punctuated by small outcrops of rock and stone. Down these trickled a few small brooks, and it was clear that animals came here to drink, for there were tracks and spoor in abundance.
A few avians flew up, startled by their appearance, and called out with raucous cries, enraged at their territory being violated. The riders climbed to the top and rode on, heading for another ridgeline some distance away. The land almost rose in a series of steps. Gorse bushes with their yellow flowers grew here and they rode around these, the spikes making the gorse too hazardous for the equines to eat them. Outcrops of stone became more frequent as they climbed, and huge formations were encountered, which made them wonder whether they had been built by men or had been put there by nature, or the gods, perhaps. Massive stone boulders rested precariously atop stone piles, and Jorqel wondered if he could push one down to roll across country. It would have been an interesting diversion, but he was in no mood for that this day.
The land flattened to a plateau of sorts, and water lay in pools across the ground. Long grasses grew along the edges of these and in other places, and the ground became spongy and the hard sound of the hoofs was replaced by a softer sound. In the distance the land rose even higher, and it was there that the true highlands began, the rugged, rough country that eventually passed into the lands held by the Tybar.
Jorqel led the way along the edge of the escarpment. Below them was extensive farmland, the lands cultivated by the Kastanians, and beyond that the sea. The coastal strip was clear for all of them to see. They could see Slenna far behind over their shoulders, and they were now riding due south, across the roughlands that still had a touch of winter here and there. The air was sharp with a chill and both the riders and the equines’ breaths clouded the air. Spring was coming here, too, but later than down on the coastal strip below them.
They could see roads, rivers, walls and the carefully tended fields of the estates of the rich families, the Houses that dominated Kastanian society. To own such land required riches, and that guaranteed membership amongst the Houses of Kastania. If one was lucky, it meant power and even greater riches. Sometimes this was gained by luck, sometimes by manipulation, sometimes by allying with the right House at the right time. Then again, marriage gained prestige. The Nicate family would climb the social ladder, as would the Pelgion, by marrying into the Koros. Other Houses had profited from such alliances in the past, and only a catastrophic incident would change the balance of power. War did that.
The old alliance of the Duras-Fokis-Kanzet Houses still posed problems. Jorqel was determined to finish that off once and for all. The Duras may hold lands in Lodria, but that was going to change. The Duras lands lay to the south, close to the Bathenian border. To get there would take a few days but Jorqel was confident he and his men would be able to do so. The return journey would be swifter; they would take the road.
The land changed the further south they went. The moorlands gradually changed as the land fell. The outcrop of high ground receded back to the west, and more woodland appeared. They cantered down into a wooded vale and stopped in a small clearing.
“We rest here for the night,” Jorqel said. “Post guards. Two men per watch. I don’t want any nasty surprises, whether by wild animal or persons.”
The men bowed and set about making a camp. One or two were adept at outdoor survival skills and very soon a nice fire was blazing away and a collection of tents were up in the small clearing. Night avians began calling as darkness fell and the men ate a supper made of wild horned animals known as a Cantrus. Their flesh was very rich and much sought after. One of the men had snared it an
d they all ate their fill. A cantrus was big as a man.
Jorqel couldn’t settle at first. He was restless. He walked round the camp perimeter, lost in his thoughts. By the end of the following day they should be on Duras land, and he’d sort that family of traitors out.
____
Elas Pelgion slapped his hands together in irritation. The latest marriage service rehearsal had been planned for that afternoon, and Amne had not turned up. It was not acceptable, especially as they had spoken of it that morning prior to their argument. She knew all too well her responsibilities, and yet she preferred to go galloping off out into the countryside with that…… man.
Irritated, he walked stiff-backed into the palace office. Someone would be there and they may know where his betrothed had gone. The major domo, Pepil, was sat at the desk poring over the following day’s list of visitors, and he looked up in surprise. He stood up hurriedly. “Lord Elas, is there anything amiss?”
“Yes, major domo,” Elas said stiffly. He was always punctilious, referring to people more often than not by their rank, rather than their name if he could help it. “The Princess is not here in the palace. She did not attend the scheduled marriage rehearsal. Do you know where she is?”
“I’m afraid not, Lord Elas, but I did hear they were going to tour the region the Princess had been given to administer. I believe it was in response to an urgent plea, but I’m not certain.”
“What plea?” Elas was instantly suspicious. “From whom?”
Pepil put his hands together. He was nervous when dealing with the severe and humourless Elas. “Ah, I believe you may have to ask Captain Vosgaris. He does have the advantage of knowing more than I do on such matters; especially where the Princess is concerned.”
“What do you mean by that, man?”
“Oh,” Pepil pulled an exaggerated expression of doubt. “Some say he takes an undue interest in the Princess? I know nothing of this, of course.”
Elas glared at Pepil. “You should keep such comments to yourself, major domo! Spreading such gossip may reach the wrong ears, which would be unfortunate for you. I would be grateful if you do not spread such allegations in future. Do I make myself clear?”
“Of course, Lord Elas,” Pepil bowed low. Elas slammed the door behind him, leaving Pepil smiling to himself.
Elas found Vosgaris speaking to one of the palace guard by the foot of the grand staircase. He gestured for the captain to speak to him alone. Vosgaris dismissed the guard and walked a short way down the corridor. “You wanted to speak to me, Lord?”
“Where is Princess Amne?”
“Oh. I was told they were going to see a farm that had been threatened by bandits or rogues of some sort. At least that was what Lalaas indicated. Is there anything wrong?”
“She has not returned, Captain. Where is this farm?”
Vosgaris led Elas to Amne’s office and they found it to be deserted. As it was late afternoon the two staff had gone, their day finished. The two rummaged around for a moment, then Vosgaris handed the letter to Elas. The young nobleman scanned it, frowning. “When did this arrive?”
“Yesterday morning, so I understand. The Princess was determined to go see the situation herself.”
“And she took just one man? Into an area threatened by bandits?”
Vosgaris was intimidated by Elas’ temper. His severe face was even more so, suffused with anger. “Sire, Lalaas is an accomplished hunter and very skilled with the sword and bow.”
“Fool. Call out an escort. I shall go find her. If something has happened there will be the demons of the underworld to pay!”
“B-but, sire, there is no escort – my guard are not equipped to ride!”
“Are you feeble-minded, Captain? What of the mounted archers that train in the courtyard? They shall accompany me on my urgent mission. Go rouse them immediately! I shall be waiting for them at the entrance at the rear of the palace. Do not tarry – the Princess’ life may be in danger. Now go!”
Vosgaris opened his mouth to object, but what was he objecting to, and for whose benefit? He bowed instead and made his way sharply to the courtyard where the trainer, Deran Loshar, was putting some of the youthful trainees through their paces. Deran was a typical Tybar specimen, swarthy, hook-nosed, dark eyed and wiry. Anyone who had seen a Tybar before would know Deran was one. He turned in surprise as Vosgaris came trotting across the grass. “Captain – is there anything amiss?” His voice was accented, too, with many syllables spoken from the rear of his mouth, giving the words a different sound from those of Kastanians.
“Lord Elas wishes for an escort of men to go search for the Princess who is late and feared missing. He wishes for you to accompany him out into Frasia.”
“But-but we are supposed to be a secret. If we ride through the streets then everyone will know!”
“I’m afraid that has to be risked. The life of the Princess takes greater importance than your secret existence. Arm your men and mount up. Lord Elas is waiting for you outside that entrance there,” he pointed to the double doors at the end of the courtyard.
Deran shrugged. His men were trained enough to ride well, but were they any good for anything else? One way to find that out. “Very well. It shall be a good test of the young men and I can see whether they have learned anything. They look good in the courtyard but what about out there? Yes, yes I agree it is time. Are there any enemies we must face?”
“Apart from bandits? Not likely. Lord Elas was in a hurry, and I don’t think he’s someone who likes being kept waiting.”
Deran nodded and ran for the stables, shouting at the top of his voice. The young men either riding up and down the yard or standing watching were galvanized into action. They sprinted for the stables and Vosgaris had to admire their enthusiasm. They were only a couple of years younger than he, yet they seemed full of energy and youthful recklessness. Had he grown so old these past few years? Where was his life going? He had a respectable position in the palace, yet his life seemed to have stalled. What did it lack? There was something missing, something that would give him a spark. Shaking his head, he watched as the men came out of the stables, tugging on their leather vestments, boots and jackets, slipping onto their backs a quiver full of arrows and sliding their short bows into their holders attached to each saddle. That was a modification created by Deran who said that the Tybar had those and it kept the strings dry rather than having the bows slipped over the shoulder.
The equines pranced back and forth, sensing the excitement. Their ears were pricked and they were a little skittish, but the riders calmed their beasts. They weren’t the huge male equines used by the heavy cavalry; these were the females, much more manoeuvrable and agile. Not ones to use in a melee, but they were excellent in scouting or using as skirmishers.
Vosgaris watched as Deran waved the thirty riders into a line and then led them towards the exit. The palace guard captain waved to the guards by the doors to open them and watched as they filed out, leaving the courtyard empty and silent. The captain stayed for a moment, looking at the now shut doors, then turned and walked slowly back to the palace to resume his duties, wondering whether Lalaas and Amne were, indeed, in danger.
Elas saw the riders emerge from the palace building and wheeled to meet the leader, a swarthy looking individual. “Lord Pelgion?” the leader, Deran, asked, halting next to Elas.
“Indeed. You are?”
“Captain Deran, commander of the Kastan Mounted Archers. We are at your disposal.” The rest fanned out behind, eager to hear what was going to happen.
Elas was dressed in his rich attire; the thought of action had not occurred to him, so he was not exactly dressed for combat. Nevertheless he sported his sword and had a pair of riding gloves on. “We are to ride hard and fast into the Frasian countryside. I shall tell you more when we are beyond these walls away from ears and eyes. Follow me!”
He led the group through the city, their hoofs clattering on the stone-surfaced streets. They emerged from t
he side streets onto the main thoroughfare, scattering the citizens who pressed back against the sides in panic. The sight of thirty equinemen thundering down the streets of the capital wasn’t something they saw all that often, particularly as they didn’t look like Kastanians. One even looked suspiciously like a Tybar. Heads bent close together and whispers were exchanged. Elas neared the Turslenkan Gate and waved the riders through. He looked down at the guards who were looking with alarm at the sight. “We will be returning after dark. Keep a watch out for us!”
The guard tapped his chest by way of a salute and Elas followed the last of the archers out into the countryside. He galloped up to the front again and waved them to follow him off to the left. The day was fading now and the sun had gone down behind them. It wouldn’t be long now that the darkness would cover the land. They had to find that farm before it got dark. His heart told him he had to be fast, and he jabbed his steed in the flanks with his heels, urging it on faster and faster. Behind him came the mounted archers, riding as if the entire Tybar Horde were on their tails.
___
Amne got up off the plank she had been using as a bench and walked up alongside the silently waiting Lalaas. He was staring out across the land to where the distant riders were walking their mounts up and down, across his line of vision from left to right and back again. They had remained out of range except on one occasion when two tried out his nerve, walking forwards. Lalaas had instantly raised his bow and shot an arrow that had nicked one of the men’s arms. Both had retreated, one to have his arm tended.
Since then they had waited. They knew that once darkness fell and the night covered the land, then they could close in all round and pick the time to attack. The only advantage the two cornered people had was that their rear was more or less covered with the collapsed roof, but even so they could climb over the debris to attack from above. It would make a lot of noise, but perhaps by distracting their prey, the others could press home their attack from the front.
