War Bow

by P. S. Power

  Once he had a plate of food, there was a wave from one of the tables.

  “Master Brolly! Come join us!”

  The person calling out was one he’d never spoken to before in his entire life. Baron Kilroy. Renly Kilroy, if he recalled the name correctly. A man that Master Belford had suggested as being one with a reputation of taking offense and starting duels because of it. Things that most of those he faced simply didn’t survive. Actually, it had been many didn’t survive. Not most.

  Anders recalled the words rather exactly, since they’d clearly been a warning to him at the time.

  Next to the man, who was smiling well enough, sat Master Belford. They weren’t at the high table, at the front of the room, but were instead one back, near the wall. There was a tapestry in red and gold behind them, one that displayed a lion on it. It was a mere decoration, though well designed. Sir Humphrey was next to the men, turning to nod in his direction.

  It was that man who stroked his mustache and spoke first, when he settled his plate.

  “A new gambeson? May I?” He indicated wanting to touch the sleeve, so Anders put his left hand out, letting the man check the quality of the work. As he rubbed it, taking the inner portion of the sleeve, by the wrist, he nodded. “Heavy. More so than most. That’s important, but generally too expensive for most to consider. Good stitching on it, as well. Excellent workmanship.” Then not mentioning that he’d done it himself, or most likely had, the man turned to look at the baron.

  “Brolly here is riding out to the front in a week. He’s putting together some proper gear, this time. Even if he’s mainly on the magic side. This, a set of mail and weapons. What do you have planned for that?”

  He blinked, then shrugged a bit.

  “Bow, spear and a long knife. I don’t have the skill or strength to use a proper sword yet.” Plus, even though he didn't mention the idea, it was all he’d been trained for so far. Only for about four and a half months, as well. “My bow is too light, but I can spell the arrows to good effect. It doesn’t totally make up for the lack, but...” The truth was, it wasn’t his part to fight, if he could help it.

  Baron Kilroy smiled at him. It seemed... Friendly. That was a bit surprising, though also about all he’d ever truly seen from the man, himself.

  “I saw that, as we rode out together.” The man didn’t call the words out with great force, nearly whispering them. Then, all of the people at the table had gone to collect Master Franken, so the tale didn’t need to be related to anyone. “I’ve had word that you were going out soon. Also, that if one had a small delivery or two going there, it might travel safely with you? I have a friend out that way. General Harrell. He might desire a nice bottle or a small barrel or two, for entertainment. Would that be possible, do you think?”

  That was the name of one of the battle groups commanders, so it was very likely a thing that could happen.

  “I have a heavy wagon. I need some horses to pull it and probably someone to drive. I don’t know how, at any rate.”

  The Baron waved that away.

  “Get oxen. They eat a bit more but will graze on almost anything available. They’re strong and hardier than a horse. Not as fast, which is why we don’t use them in battle. Easier to drive, as well. Certainly you can learn how to do that, over the next few days. Even if you find or hire a man for the work, you should learn to do it yourself. It comes up that there’s need at times. Especially if you already have a wagon and the oxen for it.” The man didn’t act as if he was being clever, but probably was.

  Anders just nodded.

  “I’ll see to that then. I only have my own gear so far and plan to take horses, if I can borrow them, so the back is going to be empty.”

  That got a laugh, from everyone there, including a few people at other tables.

  Sir Humphrey explained at least.

  “A wagon going to the front will be filled to overflowing, if you aren’t careful. What rate are you charging for space in the back?”

  People seemed interested in his answer then, as if he was going to have even half an idea about that sort of thing.

  He smiled, and took a bite of braised mutton, to buy time. It was good. Not that tender, but it had been beaten to soften it, which always helped. Anders could tell by the texture that it had been done. That likely meant an old beast had passed, instead of one being slaughtered for their meal.

  “Anything going to the generals is free. As long as I have the space and it isn’t too heavy. The same for the captains. Any gifts for the men in general as well. The rest... Standard rate?” He had no clue as to what that would be, but there would be something like it, he had no doubt. Baron Kilroy laughed a bit.

  “Well! There goes the space in that wagon then. I’d like room for, call it three boxes of spirits? About two by two.” He gestured, showing how much space that was. “You can stack them up, since they’re only about half that high. That should be ten fine bottles in each, packed in hay. One for each of the generals.” He seemed nearly smug, as if asking more than he had a right to, out of humorous intent, until Anders nodded.

  Then he just seemed pleased enough.

  The conversation shifted then, the tone going dark, most of the way through the meal. Baron Kilroy leaned in, seeming honestly worried.

  “I heard that Princess Mathia took ill with the red death, last night. Half that suffer it die. That doesn’t bode well.” He seemed grim about the idea, instead of like he was merely gossiping.

  Anders didn’t speak on the topic, since it wasn’t his place. That didn’t stop Master Belford, who grinned then and touched the man on the arm. It was done warmly, but only to get attention.

  “Renly, she’s nearly well, already. Princess Peri woke Master Brolly here in the early morning and asked him to see to it. He did. From the sound of it, she’s already trying to find a way to get outside for a while, in the morning. She needs to keep to her room, to prevent the illness from spreading? For a week, like the servants you’re aiding?”

  He glanced at the others, then, rather elegantly, shrugged.

  “I’ve had the sickness, when I was a boy, so was called on by one of the servants to see that those ill know the rules. If they leave their rooms without leave, they get a beating.” He grinned then. It wasn’t mean seeming at all.

  “I lost a sister to that illness, as a child. Merry. It’s good to see it handled, finally. They... All of them are doing most well. Three wouldn’t have made it another two days and now all of them are ready to go back to their labors.” He teared up then, either at the thought of his lost sister or the health of those he saw for himself that day.

  Possibly both.

  No one suggested it was less than proper. In fact, the Baron had a tear in his eyes as well, and touched his friend on the arm. Sir Humphrey didn't mock them over it, just looking away.

  “You’re serious? There are five more here at the castle then, who have it. More in town...”

  Anders actually groaned then, and shook his head.

  “I’m using active magic to hold all of them in this state, so they can recover. It was all I could do to make this gambeson and do that at the same time. If I add five more...” He shrugged. “Well, then I’ll have to work out some way to make mail without using too much power for it. I don’t know how that will work. Where do I go? After the meal...” He grimaced then sat up straight and shook his head. “That feels low, but if I don’t eat, then I’ll fall to exhaustion and help no one.”

  The big knight grunted at him.

  “Too right, Brolly. Still, hurry in that. Do you need more? I’ll collect that for you, so you don’t have to wait.” He started to stand, but Anders shook his head.

  It was true he would need more, but if he ended up truly pushing himself that night, gasping and wheezing in effort to hold the spells he had going, then he was going to wish for his stomach to not be too full.

  “I shouldn’t. Not if greater work comes. I’ll hurry though.” He did then, using go
od manner, since Master Belford was like to hit him if he didn’t. Still, he pushed and not three minutes later was standing, leaving his dish on the table as was the custom there. As often happened, Farad felt an odd urge to rise and carry the plate to the scullery himself. That came from his old life, where he was rarely served, unless ill or dying.

  Sir Humphrey rose again, and walked with him, taking the lead. Interestingly, Master Belford and Baron Kilroy moved along behind them, also at a good pace, as if they were in a single group. The hall they entered was on the east side of the castle. To the outside, which was where the good rooms were. Not the highest, since most of those took up positions in the towers, but it was clear that he hadn’t missed any of the servants. No, these people, whoever they were, had fine rooms. Things as large as what Princess Mathia herself had.

  At the first door, the knight tapped it politely, with his fist.

  “Sir Daniel? Are you still alive? I brought help for you.”

  There was no response for a bit, then a low, gravely, voice called out.

  “Come, then. If you can risk it.”

  Anders moved to the front, since he wasn’t at risk at all. All the men moved in with him, so the other two were also immune, very brave or very foolish. Hopefully that first one, since Anders didn’t want to be part of making more ill people to tend.

  Unlike the Princess or the servants, it was clear that no one had been checking on this man regularly, at all. The room smelled, mainly of urine, but also other things that showed the fellow had soiled himself there. He wasn’t old seeming, being about two decades and perhaps a few years past that. He was sallow and gaunt though, his cheeks sunken in already.

  Anders just started working, the buzz of magic filling his words. After the third spell, he nodded.

  “Master Belford, would you see to arranging a servant for this man? Wedra might manage it, since her current charges shouldn’t be as demanding of her time?” That was a bit improper, since a strange man might make improper advances on her, but the woman was immune to the sickness, making her valuable that way.

  There was simply a nod from the black-haired man. He didn’t say anything though, since the man in the bed sat up.

  “Agh! That is...” There were a few blinks then, and a desperate grab for an old, rather encrusted, cloth that he coughed into for a few minutes. When that was done, he stood.

  “I’m fixed? I mean, weak as a kitten, but the death isn’t upon me now?”

  Anders just waved at him.

  “How long were you ill?”

  “Nine days, I think. I lost track there.” He glanced at Sir Humphrey, who nodded in agreement.

  “That sounds right.”

  “That should be fine then. Take a rest week, but you shouldn’t make anyone else ill. You still need to recover. It took me about three weeks to really get back to normal, when I had it. I’ll be back here in about an hour, to clean up. There are others, or I’d stay. Forgive me.”

  The man laughed then.

  “Right. Well, I’ll let it go this one time. Really, the servants can do the cleaning. They couldn’t come for some days. They left food and then pitchers of water for me. I haven’t been able to collect those for a bit.”

  Anders understood that part of things. He’d had water and couldn’t have managed to get it for himself, when he was ill. It probably meant that this fellow was incredibly strong, inside, as well as out.

  It was tempting to get him some clean water, using magic, but Anders resisted that, moving from one space to the next. At the end of it there were sixteen people, each pulling on him for three separate spells. They weren’t in dire need, thankfully, but it was a drain. It was forty-eight spells, all being held at one time. All of them calling to him. Taxing him.

  He was, in the end, left just slightly breathless. It was, he decided, going to make sleeping that night a pleasant thing to engage in. Still, him losing a bit of sleep was better than others losing their lives. Rather than go back and clean the rooms of those who were ill, one of them being Countess Rainly, he merely allowed the three men to lead him back to his own chambers. They all just piled inside, as if invited, when they got there. That was a bit strange, but other than glance around a bit, they didn’t seem to want anything.

  Sir Humphrey moved to the table and picked up the new gambeson there, lying on top of the older one.

  Anders waved at it, keeping the gasping sounds out of his voice. Mainly.

  “For you, Sir Humphrey. Thank you for the loan of it, as an example. I should have some mail in a day or two, if I can work that fast. It’s not assured, unfortunately.” He thought he could send and receive messages at the moment. That was precise work, but didn’t take much magical energy to perform. “The truth is that I’m pushing myself, foolishly. I can’t let people die though, if I can save them.” He held his hands up and out, as if to say he didn't know what else to do.

  The knight simply nodded at him.

  “Aye. That one is a hard lesson. You can’t save them all. No man can. Still, there is no harm in doing your best. Thank you, for aiding those others. I’ll see to collecting your payment from them. What would you like? It’s not easy work, I can tell.” He waved at Anders, who was still breathing heavily.

  “I... The honest truth is, that I don’t know. Nothing in my life has told me what to do that way. They can pay what they think is fair? Princess Peri arranged for that linen for me, for instance. I have need for some metal, to make the mail out of. It doesn’t have to be fine looking, or even wire. I think I can do it from lumps or scrap.” That had been his plan, the entire time.

  There was a nod then.

  “I’ll see to that, myself. Well, I’ll put the word out as to that payment and let them decide for themselves. That way no one will feel cheated. Not that they would. The price of such magics is always high. If it were my life, then I’d give nearly all I had. They won’t though, you can count on that. People get selfish, once they’re safe again.” The large man headed toward the door. “We’ll talk tomorrow? You should sleep now, if you can. Come, gentlemen. We should speak as well.”

  The words got a stiff nod from Master Belford and a slightly more relaxed one from Baron Kilroy.

  “Have the most pleasant of dreams, Master Brolly. We’ll speak soon, as well.”

  Then the three men left, closing the door behind them. Slowly, a bit clumsily, Anders struggled into his night clothes and all but fell into his bed. It wasn’t late yet, but he had no doubt that he was falling asleep as soon as he hit the pillow.

  Which happened so hard that he didn’t wake up until he heard the tapping on his chamber door. There was light coming through his window. The full kind, that indicated it was true day already.

  “Grand. I’m late.” Except that, other than his morning visits, he wasn’t so much, that day.

  He called out though, so whoever had come to visit him wouldn’t think he was lazy.

  “One moment.”

  He was still in his night clothing, and breathing hard enough that it would probably seem as if he’d been doing something other than sleeping, when he opened the door. It was, to his shock and surprise, Prince Erold.

  “There you are. I checked in with Depak Sona first, but he allowed as to not having seen you all morning. It’s nearly half noon. Are you well?” He looked concerned, as if Anders might be falling ill or something.

  He just nodded and grinned, his breath still short.

  “I am. I’m just... holding nearly fifty spells at one time. None of them are too powerful, but it’s like holding a stone the size of your fist, for each.”

  The other boy was clever, so took his meaning without more explanation.

  “I see. One stone isn’t that hard to hold, or two. But at twenty your arms would ache and at fifty your knees probably buckle.”

  That got a nod.

  “Like that. Now, what can I do for you today?” They were friends, but hadn’t really done much together, since the Prince had married
Princess Sweyn, of Modroc.

  Which, honestly, might have been down to him not having much free time of late, instead of the other boy being at fault. The Prince was a bit taller than he was, and a little broader across the shoulders. Other than that, he’d heard that they actually looked much alike. That was interesting if true, since the other boy was said to be handsome. Farad didn’t truly know, not having seen as much as his own reflection in a puddle in the time that he’d been with Anders.

  The boy hardly knew what he looked like, either, as far as that went. Mirrors were a thing, but not one that young men seemed to be provided with. It could just be him, of course.

  There was no bow from the boy, but there was a somber nod.

  “Father would like you to attend him, in Robarts’s office, after the mid-meal. It seems to be a meeting about you, so you probably don’t want to be late for it. Now, I need to run, so that I can have my own first meal. You should do the same, or... Would you like me to order a meal brought to you?”

  He waved that idea away. After all, he was breathing hard, but felt fine, otherwise. Really, he wasn’t even doing that much as far as gasping went. He just needed to hide it better.

  “I’m fine. I just need to hold these for a while. A week. Tell people not to get sick right now, if they can prevent it, since I don’t think I can add many more people to this. As it stands, I have projects that will be difficult to manage now. Not that illness will wait on my schedule. You know, that’s most rude of the red fever, not doing that for me. We’re so close, as well.” Being that he’d nearly died from it, not five months before.