17878265

by David

  Another messenger carried word to the Lord of Durbansdan, who sent a courier back to

  Aldric, reporting that he would indeed meet with Turtioc at sunrise the next day. There would be peace after one hard-fought battle.

  ****

  Every soldier arose with the sun the following morn. It was a bright and glorious day that saw two armies meet again; only their goal was not to slay one another, but to forge peace.

  Garrick and Turtioc discussed resolution of their differences and arranged harmony between their peoples, thereby ending their dispute for all time.

  Turtioc disavowed his claim to the Throne of Beledon, gave up his title of kingship and promised to end all ritual human sacrifice in Nindronburg. In exchange, Lord Garrick granted Turtioc a title of lordship and left him to govern Nindronburg and its folk. The barbarian leader agreed to pay an annual tithe to Durbansdan. Then Lord Turtioc gave his oath of fealty before the entire assembly, under a banner of truce.

  There was merrymaking in camp that afternoon. Lord Garrick ordered a hunt, which was to precede a feast that evening. Lord Garrick sat at the head of the table as they dined under torches, moon and stars. Garrett sat to his right and Avalar to his left. Aldric was to Garrett’s right, and Turtioc sat opposite the Lord of Egolstadt. Loric sat beside Aldric, uncomfortably close to the boisterous savage who ruled Nindronburg.

  Loric could not help but stare at the man, whose every feature defied civilized culture. His brown eyes were wild and fierce, like his long, dark hair. Golden rings hung from his ears and his nipples. The leading set in his ears was one of many, but the pair on his chest completed the face of the dragon tattooed across his muscular pectorals, giving the beast’s eyes a lively shimmer that made Loric shudder. Turtioc was tall, thick and chiseled, as from oak, although his unkempt appearance made him look as rough as shrubs on a mountainside. The man spoke a different language, as if he was no part of Beledon.

  Turtioc had a woman translator with him, who was clad in only a thong and her brown hair.

  Ne’te, he called her, but the meaning of her name was lost on the men assembled around the table. She was pretty, but harshly abused, with a crooked nose, a chipped tooth and purple bruises around her hollow, sunken eyes. Ne’te trembled when Turtioc spoke or moved.

  Loric also shook, but he shook with rage at the injustice of this treaty. Turtioc deserved to be lord of a shallow grave, not a territory of Beledon. Even Lord Turtioc’s broad smile and rich laugh were useless in diffusing Loric’s anger. He took his meal in sullen silence, brooding over the sad state of the kingdom and pondering why it had fallen so hard and so fast after Great Donigan united it. Through it all, Loric watched Lord Garrick and his beastly vassal drink dozens of toasts together.

  King Avalar made to air his voice. Loric waited for the monarch to bring him good cheer, or at least an anecdote from his home country of Regalsturn, but the new knight was mistaken. The King of Regalsturn started by congratulating Lord Garrick on a great victory and a happy treaty, but that was only the preamble to a matter much nearer his heart.

  “Garrick,” said the King of Regalsturn, “you will soon be King of Beledon.”

  “Let us hope, good Avalar,” he replied.

  “Count on it,” Garrett assured everyone present.

  “Be still,” Garrick said quietly, as though his low tone could soften his son’s arrogance or prevent him speaking his boasts again.

  “Once you are crowned,” suggested Avalar, talking as politely as if Garrett had not spoken out of turn, “you shall have to look after the best interests of your subjects. They will be pleased if your son already has a bride at his side.”

  Loric nearly choked on his drink. He felt his dinner rising in his esophagus. He was familiar with the heading of this conversation and he did not like its destination. Avalana had warned him, prepared him for the words her father intended to share. Loric felt his heart plummeting toward his shoes, with nothing to keep it from splattering. This was another night at Taggert’s Pub, moved outdoors and eastward from tiny Taeglin.

  “The people like heirs as well,” Garrick added in jest, grinning. He smiled, “King Avalar, you seem to hint at something. Perhaps you have a bride in mind for Garrett.”

  “Indeed, I do,” Avalar responded with a clever smile. “I can think of no better mate for such a brave young warrior than my daughter, Avalana. She is the greatest healer in all of Regalsturn.

  Her mother had....” his voice trailed away as he sought the proper translation from his natural Regalspeech to Beledonian, whereupon he spoke his thought in full. “Yavenla had hands of the healing balm, as my people call it, but Avalana has it even more so.” Avalar smiled broadly as he continued, “Every warrior-king should have a consort who is skilled in the healing arts. Do you not agree? It would give such a ruler a tremendous advantage over his rivals, to have this gift.”

  Garrick smiled in return. “I agree wholeheartedly, good king. What you propose pleases me.”

  “Good,” Avalar said with a nod. “Perhaps when we arrive at Moonriver Castle, all due

  arrangements can be made.”

  “Yes, of course,” answered Garrick. “I will send a messenger ahead to inform my lady wife, so she can begin making preparations for the event to come.”

  “Splendid,” Avalar replied. “Oh, this is very exciting.”

  Lord Aldric raised his cup. “To Garrett and Avalana!” he proclaimed.

  The lords and their men all lifted tankards in salute to the betrothed pair, but it seemed to Loric that his mug was filled with gall. From the expression on Garrett’s face, perhaps his was too. Loric disliked Garrett, who held promise to a precious gift in Avalana’s hand, only to despise it. He tried to wash the bad taste from his mouth and the pain from his heart. However, the wine might as well have come from the Sacred Brotherhood of the Dragon Talon, who liked to serve enough venom with their fermented grapes to make the sweetest drink tart and give it strength to kill oxen-kind.

  The next morning Turtioc took his leave of his new overlord and journeyed homeward.

  Garrick and his men broke camp and started back to Moonriver. Every man moved with eager feet, for there was to be a wedding festival upon the army’s triumphal homecoming.

  All of them were ready to reach Moonriver Castle, except for Loric, who wished the journey would never end. He was concerned for Avalana. There was no telling how she would react to her father’s intended union between her and Garrett, and there was no way to foresee how the ill-tempered Heir of Durbansdan might mistreat the Princess of Regalsturn. Loric pictured Ne’te, battered and trembling. That mental image saddened Loric. Under a banner of truce, the traveler from Taeglin had born witness to a formal surrender, a treaty and a betrothal, which were all reasons for happiness. Yet, the trio of events worked together to set him in a dour mood.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A Pending Engagement

  The victorious army was settled into camp for the night when a rider appeared on the

  horizon. The drumming of his horse’s hooves grew steadily louder as the man drew near. Loric noted that he wore the aqua and wine-red attire of the Moonwatchers.

  The rider stopped at the head of the host and bowed low before Lord Garrick. There was a hasty exchange of words between them, before the Lord of Durbansdan shouted the order to strike tents and mount up. Camp buzzed with activity, like a beehive struck by a stone, with Garrett directing a small detachment of riders off eastward to reinforce the garrison at the Nindronburg border. This sudden change of plans bewildered Loric, but he climbed astride Sunset as commanded by Aldric, who straddled Snowstorm and ordered his men heels-to-stirrups. Loric urged his company of Shimmermen to compliance through his two lieutenants, Gradlin and Baldron.

  As they formed columns and started underway once more, Loric asked, “Lord, why are we moving again? What is amiss?”

  “It seems that King Hadregeon of Landolstadt has defeated our lessened border guards in the west,”
Aldric answered gravely. “His army moves toward Moonriver Castle as we speak.”

  Loric fell silent. His heart immediately went out to Avalana. How large of a garrison has Lord Garrick left at the castle? More importantly, how long can those few defenders hold out against an entire army? Regardless of the wedding to come upon reaching Moonriver, Loric suddenly wished for more speed. Avalana’s safety mattered above all else, and that included her promised marriage to Garrett.

  The army rode through the night. Men were on the verge of falling from their saddles with sleep by the time the host finally stopped. Even then, Loric could not find rest. His concern for the princess would not allow him a wink. As things were, Garrick and his fellow noblemen had only granted the break to their men to meet with their captains; otherwise, they would have pushed on. Theirs was a reckless chase to outpace an opponent they could not see, except by sparse reports from the west.

  Two couriers came during the break. A scouting party reported back as well. One message was clear through the babbling stream of gathered information: Hadregeon’s army was likely to beat Garrick’s men to the castle. There was speculative argument as to whether the Lord of Landolstadt could overcome the castle garrison before Garrick’s host could relieve it. The race was so close that every messenger urged haste, declaring that speed would be the greatest factor in determining the fate of those defending the walls above Moon River. Even bolstered as the garrison was by the western troops that had withdrawn to meet the agreement between

  Hadregeon and Garrick prior to the border assault, delay was unquestionably in favor of the enemy.

  Scouts confirmed rumors that Landolstadters were approaching from two directions. The greater portion of Hadregeon’s host was marching down the Old King’s Way from the north, while the lesser body of troops advanced from the west. Those coming from the north were moving more swiftly than their brethren were, and were therefore likely to reach Moonriver Castle well ahead of Lord Garrick and his men.

  About midmorning, a final report came in. Once again, Warnyck proved that he was the best scout on the island. He was filthy and tired, but he was unharmed. As always, his confidence was bigger than he was, as his cocksure grin displayed for all to see.

  “Milord,” said he, “Hadregeon’s army has arrived at the home of our great overlord.”

  Warnyck wiped sweat from his brow and continued his relay, saying, “The greater portion of his host has settled northwest of the castle. It is moving to encircle its base as we speak, but thus far, they have only committed three companies near to us in the east. They are felling trees for construction of siege engines. If-”

  “Good!” Aldric exclaimed. He rubbed his hands together. “The oath breakers will not live to put them to use, for we are scarcely three miles from the east wall now.”

  “So we are, milord,” Warnyck agreed.

  Aldric looked to Loric, saying, “Gather the captains around me. Be hasty. We will lay our final plans as we ride.”

  As Loric turned to go, he heard Aldric say, “Warnyck, catch your breath and find a fresh mount.”

  “Yes, milord,” Warnyck replied. “Thank you.”

  The scout joined Loric, who moved toward the rear of the host, collecting captains for his liege’s pleasure. Loric sent those men forward as he found them, so he could speak openly with Warnyck for the first time since they had sat across from one another at Taggert’s Pub, as farmer’s son and storyteller. Occasionally, Loric interrupted his exchanges with Warnyck to relay his lord’s wishes to another officer, but their conversation continued through those breaks.

  “I have not had opportunity to thank you for saving me from that Bushubu,” Warnyck

  offered. “When last I saw you, that butcher Elberon was digging in my flesh for arrowheads, but none of that would have been necessary had it not been for your valorous deed against the beast that beset me on the King’s Way. You own my gratitude and my debt of honor.”

  “You are most welcome,” Loric assured him, “but I would remind you that you balanced the account between us with one flip of your dagger within a minute of my deed. I owe you thanks for that.”

  Two men grinned at one another as they remembered the fight they had experienced

  together. Warnyck shared, “What you did at Darbin’s Field was impressive.” He went on to say,

  “I have never seen such a thing in my life, and I have been with this army five years. A man can see many things in the service of his liege in wartime, and yet, I still find your rally and charge remarkable.”

  “You amazed me,” Loric began in reply, “by outrunning Turtioc’s border guards with

  arrows in your arm and shoulder.”

  Warnyck crinkled his nose. “That was in no way special,” he argued, “because my wounds stood as proofs that I nearly failed in my mission.”

  “I doubt most men could have escaped such dogged pursuit as you did with similar injuries,”

  Loric countered.

  “Thank you, captain,” Warnyck said, eyeing the green armband. “I see that your intent is to compliment my actions, as I have complimented yours. However, I will leave you to consider this: if I was truly amazing, I could have infiltrated Stone Keep, stolen Turtioc’s claim to the Throne of Beledon and withdrawn from Nindronburg before anyone knew I was there.” He

  snickered at his jest.

  Loric also laughed at the scout’s good humor. “When next we meet, I would hear how you came to be at Taggert’s Pub in Taeglin,” Loric assured him.

  Warnyck paused and shrugged. “I would gladly tell you now,” he replied. “I was on my way back to his lordship’s column with news of bandit activities in Riverwood. I was moving ahead of schedule, so I thought a cold brew and a warm maid might be a nice way to bed down for a change.” Warnyck laughed at the irony as he shared, “Luck was only partially with me that night. The brew was warm and the maids were cold.”

  Loric grinned at the scout’s jest.

  “However, I found something of greater importance to Beledon,” Warnyck assured Loric.

  He twitched a wink at the traveler from Taeglin. Then he went along his way without saying another word.

  Loric was left open-mouthed to consider all that Warnyck had said. When he awoke from his stupor, he wished Warnyck well. He was not in a position to pursue the scout and demand explanation, for he had come upon the last captain in the column. Duty called him to return to Lord Aldric, at the front of the long line.

  ****

  Loric listened carefully to his liege lord’s instructions. He was to lead his Shimmermen of Egolstadt on a diversionary mission to the enemy’s far left. His primary task was to lure Hadregeon into stretching his line. Aldric wanted him to stay aloof with his company, to keep disentangled from enemy units.

  They laid their plans with little time to spare. Moonriver Castle rose before them. Blue-coated soldiers of Landolstadt milled around the base of the fortress, with an occasional silver sash marking the officer of a unit. In fact, dozens of siege ladders, a ram and two catapults positioned within striking range of the walls ensured the arriving host that Garrick’s enemies were moving more swiftly than scouts anticipated them doing.

  Aldric gave the order. Ox horns bellowed. Five companies charged up the hill in an attempt to dislodge the besieging army. Those companies were highly successful in their maneuver to sweep the weakest portion of the encircling force from its posting at the eastern walls. The Egolstadters gave no quarter to their overwhelmed foes. No one had attacked Moonriver Castle since the year following the untimely fall of King Lornigan. No one had ever defiled its halls. If Aldric’s men had their way, the lapdogs of Landolstadt were not going to have the chance to do so either.

  Loric bellowed a war cry and galloped off northward. His men streamed behind him like clouds in the wind. The new knight called for his followers to raise a raucous and attract attention to their position. Landolstadt archers prepared to loose in their direction, and a small band of horsemen br
oke free of the main enemy body to prevent their line from being flanked.

  Loric let hostile riders further distance themselves from their countrymen before he made his move to dispatch them. He checked his pace and angled Sunset parallel with the enemy front to keep from straying into effective bow range. Then he waited, while opposing horsemen began overstretching themselves to get at his company.

  “On my commands: strike and wheel,” Loric said, holding his lance tip to the sky. The enemy riders hesitated. “Strike!” Loric called.

  Loric gave Sunset the bit. The ground quaked. His men shouted and yelled....

  With a mighty clash, opposing companies collided at full speed. Loric watched his new lance snap in two from the dead weight of its first victim. He used his shield to turn aside the blade of another foe, while he cast away his stub of lance and groped at his belt for the Sword of Logant. The new knight pivoted his torso toward his enemy just as the blade came free, meeting the man’s attack in perfect time.

  The ring of their colliding weapons repeatedly filled the air, as Loric beat back several blows from his attacker. Two steeds pressed against one another, bullying and biting, as each animal tried to give its master the advantage in the fight that was taking place above them. Loric used his shield to block another shuddering stroke.... and then he found an opening beneath his opponent’s shield. The Sword of Logant slashed the man’s belly. He doubled over with a horrible scream. The new knight brought his sword hilt crashing down atop the man’s head to silence his wretched wail.

  Loric adjusted his helmet and took quick assessment of the scene around him. His enemies were withdrawing. His men were pursuing after them like dogs after hares. With his company running the risk of overextending themselves, Loric knew he had to act quickly. He raised his sword and shield overhead. Then he beat them against one another with all of his might.