‘I don’t know Martin well,’ Jim said, ‘but from what I’ve seen, he and Hal match their brother, and more. Martin’s report to the Duke of Krondor about the retreat from Crydee and the defence of Ylith was modest, and what I’ve heard from others who were there is that he was nothing short of brilliant in protecting those given over to his care. He reads and remembers.’ Jim tapped the side of his head.
Lady Franciezka said, ‘And I got to know Hal well when he was hiding from John Worthington’s agents in Roldem. He’s more of the same: intelligent, passionate, willing to die for duty. And Roldem is in his debt. The king feels a personal obligation and the queen likes him a great deal. He’s compassionate, modest … in short, he’s unlike most other nobles you meet; he lacks personal ambition, greed, suspicion, and dishonesty. He’s exactly what you’d want in a son.’
Prince Edward appeared to be lost in thought, a hint of regret crossing his face. ‘The consequences of this may be dire.’
‘How much more dire can they be, highness?’ asked Jim. ‘We’re already in a state of civil war, and if we don’t prevail, it will be meaningless. If we do prevail, the majority of those likely to object will be dead or in chains.’
‘Very well,’ said the prince with a sigh. ‘Prepare the document and have Bas-Tyra witness as well as Krondor and Yabon. Charles was once good friends with Chadwick before he discovered his duplicity with Oliver. Switching sides may not make him popular with those nobles wishing to see Oliver on the throne – even if they won’t openly say so – but it makes Charles appear a man of conscience and principle, not my creature.’
‘Very well, your highness,’ said Jim, hurrying off to fetch a scribe.
Prince Edward looked at Lady Franciezka. ‘And what of you, lady?’
She smiled, and he saw the fatigue in her eyes, but otherwise she was as beautiful as ever. ‘My career is over, as is Jim’s,’ she said. ‘We’ve ensured our respective organizations are as intact as possible, to do your bidding and King Carole’s, but our part is done.’
‘What will you do?’
‘Neither of us wants for anything, as we are both wealthy in position and gold.’ Her eyes glistened. ‘Despite being as cold-blooded as he needs to be in his service to the Crown of the Isles, James Dasher Jamison is at heart something of a romantic. He imagines us living idly on an island somewhere, raising children.’
Prince Edward smiled. ‘However unlikely that may be, it’s a wonderful goal to imagine, is it not?’
Franciezka could only nod, fearing that if she spoke her voice would break.
Martin came over to Hal. ‘Could you please do something about the Duke of Ran?’
Hal was trying to eat a hastily concocted meal: they were cooking quickly over campfires on their ride back to Prince Edward’s encampment. ‘What is he complaining about now?’
‘Everything,’ said Martin, sitting down next to his brother. ‘And he keeps offering bribes to me and Ty to help him escape and take you prisoner, or whatever else he can imagine.’ He picked up a wooden plate and dug out a heavy spoonful of beans and bacon from the cooking pot. ‘I don’t think he realizes I’m your brother.’
‘Or he doesn’t care,’ said Hal with a smile. ‘Some brothers, you know?’
‘I think Ty might be listening,’ said Martin, and Hal laughed.
‘How are the horses?’ asked Hal.
‘Tired, but holding up,’ said Martin. ‘The remuda is large enough that we’re riding fresh mounts each day. When do you think we’ll reach Edward’s position?’
‘If we’re out at first light, sometime near sundown tomorrow.’
‘Think the battle’s started already?’
‘We’ll know tomorrow,’ said Hal, finishing up his meal. ‘I’m going to take a quick tour around the camp, then turn in. You turn in now; you’re close to exhausted.’
‘You’re no spring daisy yourself,’ said Martin. ‘But very well, your grace.’
Hal laughed. As he set out to inspect his prisoners and the camp, he wondered if that might not be the last laugh he and his brother would share for a while.
And not for the first time, he wondered how his other brother was faring.
Brendan crawled over the rocks, belly down, listening to the camp noise below. He pulled himself up above an outcrop and saw a sentry standing half-way down the hillside. These mercenaries were sloppy, not expecting any of Prince Edward’s forces to be nearby. Had they been alert, they’d have had twice as many guards up on this bluff looking north-west. If they had any patrols out, Brendan had neither seen nor heard them.
He studied the camp. There was a large tent in the centre, which he assumed belonged to the captain of this company, and only a dozen smaller tents scattered around, big enough for four or five men each. The rest of these forces were sleeping under the stars, which, given the current weather, was no problem.
For a brief moment he wished he had that weather-magician of Reinman’s along to dump a torrent on them, but then realized there probably wasn’t a bottle of wine or a flagon of ale left between Edward’s camp and Rillanon.
Brendan began counting campfires.
Tomas battled and Draken-Korin, in the form of Braden, answered every attack. A human would have long since died of exhaustion, yet these two relics of a bygone age continued to test one another. Twice Tomas had delivered wounds that would have killed any mortal instantly, but Draken-Korin had withstood them and kept his opponent at bay long enough for Valheru magic to heal him.
Both fighters guarded their magic now, needing it to keep them alive rather than to inflict harm. They had both come to terms with their inability to gain magical advantage and now realized this combat would end in the spilling of blood, as primitive and basic as a fight could be.
Throughout the night they moved like wary wolves, circling and dodging in for the attack, only to pull back to avoid counter-attack. They nipped and snapped, and each took slight injuries, but they were now coming into the final phase of this fight.
At some point one would find an opening, or gain a momentary advantage, and when that occurred, the outcome would finally be decided.
Tomas heard the dragon voice in his mind again: Tomas must die.
But this time it was followed by an ancient and alien sound. A dragon began to sing, and others took up the song. At last Tomas recognized it. It was the death-song of dragons, the song they would sing when a Valheru fell.
Pug signalled Miranda, Nakor, Ruffio, and Magnus over. ‘I think I know what we need do,’ he said.
Ruffio glanced over his shoulders to where a knot of clerics sat eating and resting.
Pug followed his gaze. ‘We’ll tell the others when it’s time.’
‘It’s not yet time?’ asked Miranda.
‘No,’ said Pug. ‘There are some things we must arrange for, before we embark on what may be our final confrontation.’
‘I don’t like the way that sounds,’ said Nakor.
‘None of us do,’ echoed Magnus.
‘First, we need to know exactly what is occurring within the dome. And we need to be able to react instantly once we know. Second, we must invert the energy of the magic confining the Dread and drive them back whence they came. Last, we must seal off that rift.’
‘When you say it like that,’ quipped Nakor, ‘it sounds easy.’
‘It’s direct,’ said Pug, ‘but not easy.’
‘How are you going to get inside to see what’s there without being obliterated?’ asked Miranda.
‘This,’ said Pug. He held up an orb.
‘An orb of Ocaran?’
‘I’ve never seen one of those before,’ said Nakor.
‘We had one in storage at the villa,’ said Magnus. ‘It’s the last one. We were trying to study it and duplicate it.’
‘Magicians who die without teaching another their secrets are annoying, aren’t they?’ said Nakor.
‘We understand the basic theory,’ answered Pug. ‘We still haven’t ta
ken this one apart for fear we’d disable it, so we might as well use it now to ensure we have the leisure to build another in years to come.’
‘To make sure we have years to come,’ said Miranda. ‘You know how to use it?’
‘I’ve used it before, briefly.’ Pug turned to Magnus. ‘You can put it inside that dome, can’t you?’
‘It’s a very large target, Father, literally the size of a city. I can get it in there.’
‘It’s time to alert everyone to their roles,’ said Pug. ‘We shall need four distinct tasks attended to: first, we will need defenders, for when we begin the spell-inversion, that shell will become porous for a while, and we have a very good notion of what’s going to be coming out of it.’
‘A lot of Dread,’ said Miranda.
‘Second,’ said Pug, ‘we will need people to be ready to evacuate all those who aren’t needed here. Because not only are there going to be Dread rampaging around this valley, but if this spell is as unstable as I think it may be, there could be destruction on a level that will make what happened on the Island of the Snake Men look trivial.’
‘That’s … terrifying,’ said Nakor.
‘Thirdly, Magnus, you’re the only one who has the strength and ability to do the melding of magic that’s coming our way. I don’t know if even I could do it alone. I need you to be the conduit for what they give us.
‘Lastly,’ he said to Nakor, ‘I need you to be ready to do things you’ve never been asked to do before, tricks on a scale undreamed of by anyone.’
Nakor grinned. ‘I’ll try.’
‘Now, I have to speak to some people,’ Pug said. ‘Where are Sandreena, Arkan, and Calis?’
‘Oddly enough,’ said Miranda, ‘they are all with that dark elf queen, enjoying a meal.’
‘I doubt Liallan would enjoy being called either a dark elf or a queen,’ said Pug. ‘I’ll be back shortly. You three start thinking about how we’re going to do this and not make mistakes. We need to have everything in place and ready to try by mid-afternoon tomorrow. After that I think the magicians keeping the dome intact will be too fatigued: we need everyone at the peak of their power.’
He walked away and Miranda looked at Magnus. ‘There are times when your father can be the most annoying person I’ve ever known.’
Without conscious thought, Magnus slipped his arm around her waist and gave her a gentle squeeze. ‘I know.’
• CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX •
Attack
TRUMPETS SOUNDED.
Drums beat a tattoo and orders rang out as Brendan hurried to Prince Edward’s command tent. Outside he saw a dozen lackeys holding horses for the nobles. Prince Edward’s was a powerful grey gelding covered in a deep-blue bard, embroidered with the full coat of arms of Krondor, the eagle-and-mountain crest. Brendan had been sleeping since he reported back early in the morning with the count of the enemy mercenaries, who numbered between eleven and thirteen hundred by his best estimate – enough to make a difference, but not an overwhelming addition to Oliver’s forces.
Seeing the prince, Brendan ran to him, and Edward turned and said, ‘I want you to ride with me, sir. Get your horse.’
Brendan hurried back to where his horse was resting from the previous night’s travels, quickly had him saddled and rode back to the prince’s retinue. Edward now wore full armour, and despite his age wore it well. He was dressed in a full coif of chain with a mail coat and heavy leather leggings. His tabard was identical to all those worn by the men of Krondor, save that his bore the royal crown above the coat-of-arms of the principality. He motioned Brendan near. ‘The dukes, earls, and barons will be leading their forces, but I’ll have a few nephews and younger brothers, such as yourself, nearby. You I would like on my right, behind me, at all times, so I know where you are. If I need to send word to one of our commanders in the field, I will send you.’
‘Yes, your highness,’ said Brendan. He reined back his horse, giving the prince room to mount up and organize his men, and rode behind Edward and a squad of palace guards, twenty hand-picked men who would give their lives to save their prince. They rode to the top of the hill behind which they had camped, and looked down on the armies of Prince Oliver.
‘Gods!’ Brendan whispered.
Before, it had seemed a sprawling sea of tents and campfires. But to see the whole army now arrayed in battle formation less than a half mile away was staggering.
Prince Edward said loud enough for all to hear, ‘Looks to be perhaps ten thousand, wouldn’t you say?’
If Brendan was a judge of such things, perhaps more.
‘Will Oliver parlay?’ asked the Earl of Hush, a distant cousin to the prince and his aide-de-camp.
‘Most likely,’ replied Edward. ‘He’ll wish to gauge my resolve, I should think. There you are,’ he said, pointing. ‘A parlay call.’
Four riders moved out from the army below, riding slowly forward under a white banner, while a trumpet sounded a truce call. Edward turned to Brendan and said, ‘Ride along, my young friend. You might learn something.’
They rode down the hill until they met in the middle. It was Brendan’s first look at Prince Oliver of Maladon and Simrick. He seemed a tall man by how he sat his horse, and big without being stocky. Brendan’s first impression before the man said a word was that he was a bully. He wore a white tabard, quartered with opposing blocks of red in the upper right quadrant with a single white cross, and a block of blue in the lower left quadrant with a white horse rampant. His horse was also covered in a bard with the crest of Maladon and Simrick on it. His companions wore the same tabards without the royal crest.
‘Highness,’ said Edward in an affable tone. ‘You have something to say?’
‘Good day, your highness,’ replied Oliver. His helm was open-faced, showing a man of sharp features, cold, dark eyes and thin lips. ‘We could end this now, if you’d be willing. I am the only male heir related to King Gregory, my beloved uncle, and yet you press a claim without foundation.’
‘This should have been a conversation before the High Priest of Ishap in the Congress of Lords, not between two armies on the verge of battle. Why bother now? We know that the Crown will be settled by force of arms, no matter what you say. Or do you make an offer of compromise?’
Oliver made a show of sighing dramatically. ‘Your highness, in all the years I’ve known you, you’ve been a man of no ambition, yet now you seek a crown?’
‘I already have a crown, Oliver,’ said Prince Edward with growing impatience. ‘What are your terms?’
‘Retire from the field. Return your armies to your various garrisons, and come to Rillanon and stand before the Congress. Do not oppose my claim and peace will reign. No more bloodshed and your friends’ and family’s offices, titles, lands, chattels and appurtenances are guaranteed. If you seek no gain for yourself or your family, why stand opposed?’
‘Any discussion of my personal motives is not germane. I will not see a foreign-born lout sit on the throne of my ancestors, is all the reason I need.’
‘You wound me, Edward,’ said Oliver with a nasty grin.
‘That is my intention, Oliver. Severely and with malice.’
‘Then look for me on the field, old man. I’ll be easy to find,’ Oliver said, turning his horse and riding back to his lines.
Edward turned his horse without comment, then, as they were halfway to their own lines said, ‘Brendan, my young friend, what did you see?’
‘A bully, highness, who wished to engage you in pointless conversation while his aides counted your forces and marked your deployment. I think he might also have wished you to believe there was an easier way out of this, to sow doubt at the last moment.’
‘Very astute, my young friend,’ said Edward. ‘Now we surprise him.’ Edward glanced again at Brendan. ‘What else?’
‘Highness,’ said Brendan. ‘It’s what I didn’t see. I didn’t notice those Keshian mercenaries that marched in this morning.’
‘That’s be
cause Oliver is hiding them,’ said Prince Edward. He signalled to a captain of horse, who turned and waved his arm.
Suddenly, two things occurred at once. Oliver’s forces began a slow march up the hill and Edward’s cavalry began to shift position, moving from the centre, pulling out from the rear, as archers ran out from behind a wall of shielding infantry.
Brendan watched in fascination. He knew the prince and his generals had been preparing the ground for battle since arriving and that three features on the field that were judged critical were fortified. There was a large knoll to the south-east which was a perfect defence against any attempt Oliver might make to swing around and take Edward on his right flank. There was a rocky ridge rising up to the north that was a natural defensive position upon which waited two hundred archers. That protected Edward’s left.
And in the middle of the battlefield was a shallow depression which was misleading in appearance, but which Brendan had just experienced. Once a horse dropped down into it, it had to gather itself to charge upward, which meant it lost momentum. It was a natural defence to break any charge.
Brendan lowered the visor of his helm, and glanced down at the brown-and-gold tabard of Crydee. By rank he was entitled to a cadence mark over the crest, but he hadn’t found time or a tailor to sew one on. He prayed quietly, ‘Oh, gods, do not let me shame this tabard of my family.’
The army of Prince Oliver started moving uphill, the infantry at a leisurely trot, and the horses in the middle started their canter. Brendan heard a trumpet blow behind him and glanced back towards Prince Edward’s lines. To his surprise he saw the remaining cavalry pull out. A squad of men hurried forward carrying heavy poles, two men per pole, and fanned out to form a line before the infantry and archers.
Brendan understood now why Prince Edward had resisted the attempt to attack while Oliver was arriving. That would have been a mêlée without planning, while this was going to be the battle he chose.
As Oliver’s cavalry reached the depression, Brendan watched and things proceeded exactly as he had anticipated. The cantering horses suddenly found themselves dropping down, and instinctively braced, then gathered for an uphill lunge, slowing down, and blocking those horses behind. Like a ripple, the break in rhythm flowed back to the second, third and fourth ranks, completely breaking the charge without a blow being struck.
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