by Brian Murray
“RIDE!” bellowed Dax, wheeling his horse around.
Thade wanted to pull on his reins, but instead he closed his eyes and grimaced. He felt the other scout, Paxton, also pull up and turn to face the enemy. Tears stung Thade’s eyes, knowing they faced certain death against those odds. He could hear the thundering of the horses’ hooves getting louder. Something was wrong. The sound . . . Suddenly, riders emerged.
***
Horsemen emerged not from behind Thade but in front of him. Before his tiring chestnut, galloping towards him was a squad of Royal Lancers led by Zane. As he passed, Zane smiled at Thade and drew one of his two short swords crafted by their late friend, Gammel, who had died on the steps of the palace at Teldor trying to enact his vengeance for his family’s cold-blooded murder. Gammel had failed, but Dax completed the man’s mission and killed General Polalic of the Dark Brethren.
Zane and his men rushed past Thade, who reined in his horse. The young king watched Dax charge into the Rafftons, not knowing the Royal Lancers were closing in behind him. Dax clashed into the Rafftons, hacking and cutting like a possessed man with nothing to lose—death meant nothing to him. Suddenly, the enemy turned and galloped away.
“COME BACK HERE YOU WHORESONS. I AM ONLY ONE MAN!” bellowed the angry warrior, about to pursue them. He finished cursing as several Royal Lancers thundered past on either side, surprising him.
Zane pulled up next to Dax. “Greetings, old horse. Thought I might have a little look and see what this side of the Great Mountains is like.”
Dax smiled broadly at the young man, his anger fading. “Damn nice to see you are inquisitive, your Highness,” he countered mockingly. “There is a large camp just yonder, so I would suggest we get to our side of the pass.”
“Good idea.” Zane signalled and a horn was blown twice. The Royal Lancers instantly gave up their pursuit, wheeled their horses, and cantered back to where Zane and Dax waited.
“What’s with the horn?” asked Dax.
“I was having problems shouting commands over all the noise of galloping, so I thought a loud piercing horn blast should do the trick,” replied Zane, smiling his distinct crooked smile.
Dax smiled in return. “Good idea. Let’s go home. You have given me a couple of ideas and it is getting mighty cold.”
“Only cold for the old,” countered Zane, riding off with the Royal Lancers and laughing when he heard Dax’s cussing.
***
The company of Royal Lancers escorted the men back through the pass and into the camp. Jayson was immediately sent to healers for treatment whilst Dax and Thade sat with Zane in his tent. Over hot goblets of tisane, the two warriors explained what they had seen in the camp. The king sat in thoughtful silence, listening to the reports. He was furious that the two men had risked their lives for a scout, but he knew he would have done the same. Food was brought into the tent and the three friends ate a rich hot stew with gritty black bread. During the meal, the friends chatted like they were in a tavern in the middle of Teldor, with no bothers, laughing and joking. Soon, however, Zane and Thade fell silent, as both missed their ladies, while Dax remained brooding. To get out of the tent and to break the heavy mood settling over them, Dax decided Zane should see Mandeville.
Dax rode with both Thade and Zane and suggested they meet Baron Daviton. Zane initially objected, but Dax stood firm about the matter and insisted he go. It was only polite and part of Zane’s duty to meet the baron. The friends left their weapons behind; not all of their weapons, for each man carried a dagger or two hidden on their person. The three companions, escorted by a small squad of Royal Lancers, entered the quiet outpost. It was, by now, quite late and most of the inhabitants were snuggled up before their hearths, out of the biting wind. The company approached the main house where a scrawny lackey ran out to help the men with their horses. He approached the lead rider and was told to take care of the horses of the three men not in uniform.
The lackey took the mounts from the three dismounted men and Zane gave the boy a silver coin.
Dax approached the door and again before he could knock, the door creaked quietly opened. “Jermon, is the baron home tonight?” he asked.
“Aye, but he is resting now,” snapped the old servant.
“Well, you run along inside and tell him that his king is standing out in the cold waiting to be received,” hissed Dax, annoyed about standing in the cold.
“Our king?” replied the old servant, squinting at the three men. “Oh my, oh my, please do come in, come in,” he promptly insisted, bowing yet not knowing which of the other two men was his liege. Once inside, Jermon took their cloaks and escorted them to the baron’s study that was still warm although the fire was dying down. Inside the room, Jermon tried to bend down to relight the fire.
“That’s fine, let me do that,” said Zane, offering to help.
“Bless you, young man,” started Jermon, his joints cracking and creaking loudly as he rose. “I will fetch my lord.” As Jermon left the room he bowed towards Thade and backed out silently. Once the door clicked shut, Dax started laughing.
“Since when can the King of Rhaurien light a fire?”
“I quote an old man once telling me: ‘Learn to light a fire or die from the cold, it is no skin off my nose if you perish in the cold.’”
Thade roared with laughter. “Sounds like Dax.”
Zane turned his head sheepishly and smiled. “Aye, but I didn’t say it was a wise old man.”
“You cheeky pup,” snapped Dax playfully.
The door opened and Thade and Dax rose whilst Zane blew the glowing embers in the hearth back to life. Baron Daviton entered the room beaming a huge smile. He saw the three men, but he had a problem. Daviton had never met his king. He knew Dax; there was another young man relighting the fire, therefore, he concluded the other man standing must be his liege.
“Greetings, your Highness,” said the baron, bowing deeply towards Thade.
Both Thade and Dax smiled as Zane rose from the fire after adding several logs to the flames. He walked up next to Thade and frowned. The baron looked at the two young men. They could have been brothers. Both men were tall, handsome, with shoulder-length, raven-black hair and the Rhaurns’ stormy-grey eyes. They had the look of hawks, whereas Dax had the look of an eagle.
“Your man is the spitting image of you, your Highness,” commented the baron.
“Aye, my friend Thade is rather good-looking; however, he’s a fraction taller so that makes him lanky and uncouth,” added Zane, offering the baron his hand.
The baron blushed a colour red Zane had never seen before and had to suppress his urge to laugh.
“My humblest apologies, your Highness,” stammered the baron bowing deeper. “I thought with you lighting the fire . . . my apologies, your Highness.”
“Don’t let it concern you, my friend,” said Zane warmly. “I have learned to do many things for myself. My friends have taught me the wonders of self-sufficiency. Either that or I go hungry and cold.”
“Very good,” said the baron, offering the men seats.
Jermon and a serving-maid entered the room carrying a tray of tisane and warm honey cakes. They placed the tray on the table where Jermon poured the drinks and handed them out after asking if they should be sweetened. The old servant silently left the room and Baron Daviton started to speak.
“King Zane, welcome to Mandeville,” he said formally, raising his fine porcelain cup.
“Good of you to invite me, Daviton. It’s a shame it’s not under better circumstances, but nevertheless thank you.”
“No, thank you for coming to our aid. I understand that you are travelling to assist the Phadrine. I also heard about the dreadful business down at Ubert. We all prayed for the lost souls and for it to have happened so soon after Evlon. Awful business.” The baron paused and Zane could see that the man was honestly touched by the atrocities.
“I know, it was a terrible loss of life and I will avenge their deaths. But
let’s discuss more immediate problems.”
“I have spoken to Dax,” said the baron, smiling at the older warrior. “We believe that when the snows arrive, the threat will diminish until, at least, the thaw. That should give us around six months. But like a woman’s mood, the snows are never predictable.”
“I understand the snows will halt any invasion into my lands by blocking the pass,” started Zane. “But I want to send a message that no one can even consider invading my lands without facing dire consequences. Dax and I have devised a plan that will not only hold the Rafftons at bay, but also bloody their noses.”
“Splendid,” said the baron, beaming as he sipped his tisane, feeling more relaxed. He waited for his king to expand on the matter and realised he was not going to. This was a breach of etiquette, but the baron quickly realised Zane was no ordinary king. “I trust you will have everything prepared, my lord. But if you need anything, anything at all, all you need to do is ask. I have a room ready for you here and will send someone to collect your luggage.”
“Thank you, baron, but there is no need. I will be staying with the men.” Dax looked at Zane and he could feel the man’s gaze. He needed to add an explanation. “I believe the invasion will be in the next day or so and therefore need to be close to the men to issue orders. I do thank you for your hospitality.” Zane could see the baron’s hurt; he had probably told everyone that their king would be staying in his home. “On another issue: When all these problems have been resolved, I intend to be wed. I would be most pleased if you would travel to Teldor and be my guest in the palace for the wedding.” Zane saw the baron’s face brighten. A personal invitation to his king’s wedding and he would be staying in the palace.
“Congratulations, your Highness. I would be honoured to attend the festivities. Who is the lucky lady to be our queen?”
“Aurillia, the daughter of the legendary axe-wielder, Rayth.”
“Fine man,” said the baron, who had heard stories of the axe-wielder but had also heard he ran a tavern in Teldor. He did not mention it. “And I am sure she is a beautiful woman who will bear you many strong children.”
“Aye, she’s beautiful,” said Zane wistfully. “Now you must excuse me, I have much planning to complete with my men.”
“Yes, yes. I will see you out.”
The baron escorted his king and two companions to the door, where he said a cheery farewell. He insisted that Zane should join him for supper one evening when their little problem had been concluded.
Zane agreed.
***
During the ride back to the camp, Dax commented, “You have a friend for life with the baron.”
“How’s that?” asked Zane.
“You tell him, Thade,” said Dax and Thade smiled.
“Well, you rejected his offer to stay in his house, but personally asked him to attend your wedding. He can now tell everyone that you asked your ‘friend’ to attend the wedding. He will be one of the first people to know outside of Teldor and forever be loyal.”
“You did well, boy,” added Dax.
Zane smiled; now that it had been explained to him, he realised what he had done, although to him it was just natural politeness.
When the three arrived at the camp, the Royal Lancers were dismissed and they entered Zane’s tent which was diligently guarded by a squad of axe-wielders. The axe-wielders were now Zane’s personal guards, but when he had to ride anywhere, the Royal Lancers took up the duty. The Royal Lancers had been the king’s personal guards but during the retaking of Teldor, the axe-wielders had fought beside Zane when he retook his palace. From that day on, there had been a shift of power in the Rhaurn army and now the axe-wielders guarded the royal family. Zane would ride with the Lancers and heavy cavalry, but whenever he was in camp or at home, only the axe-wielders were allowed the honour of guarding him.
Inside the tent, the three men, plus several senior captains and commanders of the various divisions, discussed the plans well into the early hours. There were senior officers representing the axe-wielders, the heavy and light cavalries, and the Royal Lancers. The officers asked questions about the plans that were answered by either Zane or Dax. When the men left, they immediately started issuing their orders. Timing, stealth, and secrecy were essential.
After the meeting when everyone had left the three companions alone, Dax spoke to Zane.
“You know you have to appoint another general.”
Zane sat in silence for a while thinking of his friend and mentor, General Brooks. General Brooks had died during the charge against the Dread a month earlier. He had lost his sword and rode his horse in before Zane, taking a blow meant for his king, and later died in Zane’s arms. To date, Zane had not thought about his replacement; it was too painful for the young king. Moreover, Zane had not had the time to examine the officers within his force.
“There are some good men amongst the officers,” pressed Dax.
“I know Dax, but you are my warlord.”
“I am honoured with the title, but I am a man who leads from the front line. You need a man who stays back and who can read the ebbs and flows of the battle. You need a man who is steadfast and will not panic or issue bad orders at key moments. The man needs to understand logistics and supply. I am a great warrior, once a general, but I always had men to help me with the supply and logistical planning of a march.”
“Have you seen anyone?”
“There are a couple of candidates and I will test them for you. I will not lie, but you know the man will have to be an axe-wielder. I have seen one or two, one in particular who has proved himself and stands out.”
“You tell me when you think the time is right and I will follow your guidance. I trust you Dax, you can read men better than anyone I know. I will leave it with you.”
“Good,” said Dax, concluding the discussion. “Now let’s get some rest, it is going to be a long couple of days.”
Dax and Thade left Zane to his thoughts and walked through the camp to their own tent.
“You’ve already found the man,” stated Thade knowingly.
“Aye, I have. Let’s hope I am not proved wrong.”
“Dax wrong—never,” added Thade, mocking astonishment.
***
Throughout the night and well past dawn, there was constant movement around the Rhaurien camp, by the pass wall and beyond.
CHAPTER 6
CONN WOKE THE next morning at dawn just before the bell rang out across the camp. He dressed swiftly as the cold gnawed at his bones. Been living in the warmer climate by the sea in Teldor for far too long, he told himself. He wore his general’s dress uniform of polished metal body armour, a kilt covered in metal slats finishing just above his knees, and ankle-high leather boots. His white fur-trimmed cloak was spread on his bed. As he sat down to break his fast, he thought of the city, of his wife and child. A picture of a man in a long red coat filled his mind. He liked Zorain, Captain of the City Watch, and missed him. His mood turned melancholy and his heart heavy. All his young life he had hated the Rhaurns. Even when he started his mission he had hated the Rhaurns. But now he had lived with them and moved to Teldor, where he had started to like the people. Then, with all of the activity in Teldor over the past few months, he had begun to enjoy the company of his new friends. It surprised Conn how much he had defended Zane, the king. He had many chances to inform the Darklord and his army of the king’s whereabouts but something inside told him it was wrong. Had his hate disappeared? Probably it had. But Conn was a professional soldier and a Raffton. His duty was to his emperor and the council and his orders were to conquer the Rhaurns and then the Phadrine.
He sighed. He did miss his wife and his child. Maybe when they captured Teldor he would claim her and his son. He said a silent prayer for his son’s well-being. Then he fastened the buckle to his decorated sword-belt, which he looped around his waist. Again, the words of the tortured scout rang in his mind—“Dax will kill you.”
Conn shivere
d, but this time not from the cold but from fear. He had seen, first hand, the awesome figure of Dax fight with his two short axes. He was the kind of man who could walk through an army to kill you. He seemed indestructible. He is a man to walk the path with, thought Conn. Yes, Dax was a true warrior—a true Rhaurn.
Conn exited his tent, pushing out the flap. His horse had been saddled and three men waited for him. He donned his polished steel helm and mounted his horse. He looked around at the camp and smiled. Today would be their day of victory, but as he thought those words his stomach knotted. What was wrong with him? He pushed all negative thoughts from his mind and rode through the Raffton’s camp. Conn watched as his men prepared themselves for battle. His scouts had returned and informed him the pass was quiet. Conn felt a twinge of excitement in his body. He had not been in battle, wearing his uniform, for several years and now he yearned again for success.
He had risen swiftly through the ranks of the Rafftonia army. The son of a noble, he was initiated into the army’s elite at an early age. He was schooled in an army barracks where they taught the children about battle strategy as well as numbers and letters. It was in the art of battle and strategy where Conn had excelled—the best in his year, winning the silver sabre for being the highest placed student. He left the barracks and was immediately put in charge of a company of men. He had been lucky in his early years. Many times, he was in the right place at the right time and won all of his skirmishes and battles against rebel Mnadians in the north. Rising to the rank of general, he was handpicked by the council to undertake a role he initially thought below him.
“You are to travel over the Great Mountains to the Kingdom and spy on the enemy. When the time is right, you are to inform us and then lead the conquest of the Rhaurns. This is a great honour and much responsibility has been placed on you. Get this wrong, make an error in judgement, and the Raffton’s army will be tarnished with a defeat against the barbarians. We have picked you for this mission. Do not fail us.”
He knew better than to complain about his new assignment, but had thought he was being punished for something he had done. But one of the councillors had invited Conn to dinner and explained the importance of the missions and why they had picked him. Conn had a way with languages. He could pick up a language quickly and, furthermore, he was also able to hide his accent when speaking in another tongue. So reluctantly, the young general set out on his mission.
