Fall of a Kingdom

by Michael Greenfield

  “And I assume that you were wanting to get to Holdur in order to use the tower to communicate a message to His Majesty?”

  “They’ve got the best part of a five day head start on us. The fastest that my uncle could get troops up to the area where we were attacked would be a fortnight. Troops from Holdur could be used but Lord Holdur might find himself stretched, and no matter what the reason His Majesty would not do anything that would knowingly endanger the kingdom.”

  Cal spoke for the first time since Dorrin had begun his narrative. “You mean the King would allow his daughter to be taken without trying everything possible to rescue her?”

  A grim smile crossed Farsighter’s lips. “His Majesty would move the heavens and earth in order to save his daughter, but he would also weigh whatever he attempted against the consequences for the tens of thousands of subjects that rely upon his protection.

  I know that it must be hard for you to understand Cal, but just think how the King will feel when he finds out.”

  Dorrin agreed. “Farsighter’s right. It will grieve His Majesty, but he will look for a solution to the problem that will not leave the rest of the kingdom at risk.

  Besides, we still have time to play with.”

  Even Farsighter raised an eyebrow when Dorrin added that. “How do you figure that?”

  “Most people assume that the royal child must be presented immediately after their fifteenth birthday. That’s not strictly accurate.” When he saw that he had the complete attention of his two rescuers he continued. “All that the prophecy states is that the child must be presented during their sixteenth year. In other words…”

  Cal interrupted enthusiastically. “Sometime between their fifteenth and sixteenth birthdays.”

  “He’s fast.” Dorrin smiled his first genuine smile since Cal had entered the room. Probably his first for nearly a week, he reflected. “It’s obvious that the intention was not to kill Myriana, they could have done that easily enough before I made it back to the camp.

  It’s also obvious that the Shalers were following orders of the Mythraan.”

  “Mythraan? I thought they were just a legend.” Cal looked truly amused that Dorrin believed they had been attacked by something out of an old wives tale.

  “If only they were. There’s not been one in these areas for centuries, and you can guarantee that when they do turn up they are going to cause trouble.”

  “I think they’ve already started there.” Farsighter closed his eyes in thought. “You’re right that we need to inform His Majesty as quickly as possible. Then we need to be about the business of tracking your cousin down.

  At least you’ve solved one mystery that was annoying me from yesterday.”

  “And that is?”

  “At least I now know why we found so many Shalers in one group. I’d say that Mythra seek to extend their influence once again.”

  Cal looked first to Farsighter, and then to Dorrin. “Forgive me for being the dunce, but what does that mean?”

  “It means that we are in big trouble. It means Mythra once again look south and that is where they’ll be taking the Princess”

  Holdur

  The following morning saw three riders and three spare mounts leave Gellda just as the first rays of the morning sun started to reach out to the surrounding fields. Dorrin wasn’t fully recovered as yet, but the urgency of the news that he had to carry outweighed any personal discomfort he might be suffering. Cal’s uncle Tal had arranged for the six horses after a hurried conversation with Farsighter the previous evening and had added enough supplies to ensure that even with the addition of the Guard Lieutenant to the party they would have plenty to eat and drink. The three extra horses were spares to allow them to keep up a more rapid pace than they would otherwise have been able to.

  Mounted they should be arriving in Holdur the next evening, although Dorrin chafed at it taking even that long. Cal for his part kept quiet for most of the morning. He was still reflecting upon how quickly his life seemed to be changing. It was only four days since they had left Fallon’s Glen. Four days since he had ceased just being the youngest son of the village blacksmith and packed just about all that he owned to follow Farsighter.

  The other two had noticed his silence but respected his requirement of time to put all that was happening into some sort of perspective. Privately Farsighter was worried as to what effect all of this would have on the young man.

  Whatever his feelings on the matter, Farsighter decided that it was something that Cal would have to come to terms with by himself. Dorrin appeared about to speak to Cal at one stage, but a swift shake of the head from the older man had ended the idea.

  It wasn’t until they stopped for a brief rest and to swap the horses over just after noon that Cal finally spoke.

  “Is this what I can expect from the rest of my life?” He had spoken quietly, almost in a whisper.

  Farsighter regarded him sympathetically; Dorrin just raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “It’s not what you would call a conventional life that you have agreed to lead.” Farsighter cast a sideways glance at Dorrin. “I was taking young Master Ironsson to Bor’a to enrol in the Rangers.”

  Understanding spread across the face of the younger man. “I’ll admit that most Rangers have the luxury of full training before anything is expected of them, but for some that luxury doesn’t exist.

  I’m sorry Cal, but I think that you are going to be one of the latter. If it’s any consolation you’re being accompanied by one of the best Rangers to have walked the trail in the last fifty years.” He smiled at Farsighter. “And before you start being all modest, you know it’s true.”

  “Perhaps, but it’s been a while since I’ve had to use more than a fraction of the skills that I learnt over those years. I seem to recall that you weren’t that bad during your personal training before you disappointed us all and joined the Royal Guard instead.”

  This time Dorrin laughed aloud. “You think I actually had a choice in that decision? Apparently it would be most unseemly for a cousin of the next Queen to be seen consorting with the like of the Rangers.”

  “Sounds about right.” He regarded Cal again. “If you want to turn back, no one will think any the worse of you.”

  That seemed to jolt Cal out of the stupor he was rapidly descending into. “You might not, but I’ve a feeling that I’d spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been.”

  “There is that, but on the other hand, if you continue you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what would have happened if you’d just gone home.”

  “Now that you mention it.” Cal grinned at the others. “I guess I just needed a bit of time to get to grips with it all. I’ll be fine. Besides, Farsighter will confirm that I’d still manage to find trouble even if I didn’t come with you.”

  All three laughed this time. “That’s the truth.”

  The rest of the day passed peacefully, for which everyone was grateful. Farsighter had worn his sword openly since the night of the fight, just in case he had said. Just in case apparently didn’t excuse Cal from the lessons that had been promised.

  Both Cal and Dorrin had set about collecting wood for the fire whilst Farsighter disappeared down a likely looking game trail. He hadn’t returned before them so Cal found himself self-consciously forced to make small talk with the Guardsman whilst they got the fire going.

  Dorrin was well aware of Cal’s nervousness, and soon found that if he started a subject it was a lot easier to get Cal to open up. When they got round to talking of the weapons that Rangers and Guardsmen carried the subject of Cal’s own experience of the one and only time he had hefted a sword came up. Within seconds Dorrin had his own blade out and was stood behind Cal showing him the correct posture for handling it.

  When Farsighter arrived it was just in time to see Cal’s inexperienced swing bring both himself and Dorrin crashing to the ground amidst peals of laughter. Without a sound, the former Ranger placed th
e game he had brought with him on the ground and slowly drew his own sword.

  Four steps placed him behind and to the side of Dorrin with the blade coming down fast. Dorrin’s arm flashed up as he spun his body sideways, catching the blade on his buckler and forcing it to slide toward a ridged section further along it. Farsighter didn’t wait for the blade to catch on the ridge, as he knew full well that an expert could use the force of their own turn to snap a blade clean in two once it was snagged. He flipped the tip his blade skyward in salute and stepped back.

  “Not bad for a Guardsman.”

  “From you, that’s quite a compliment.” The grin was tinged with a slightly reproachful edge. “I assume that you thought I wasn’t paying enough attention?”

  “If I’d have thought that I would have just shouted at you and enjoyed the fright in your face.” He looked at the slightly awestruck Cal. “Another thing for you to work on, situational awareness. Dorrin just gave an excellent example of it by not only paying attention to what you were doing, but also knowing what I was up to behind you.

  Unfortunately, it’s not something that can be taught. All you can do is practice every second of every day until you instinctively keep track of everything that’s going on around you.

  One day you’ll get into a serious fight and it could be the only thing that keeps you alive.”

  “When were you planning on getting the lad a sword of his own?”

  Farsighter had just placed the tip of his water skin to his lips when Dorrin asked the question. A mouthful sprayed away from his mouth as he snorted with laughter.

  “Lad? Gods, he’s only a few years younger than yourself.” All three joined in the mirth of the moment, although Cal looked slightly hurt by the comment.

  Dorrin raised his hands in supplication. “No offence Cal, you just get used to speaking that way about the junior members of your unit.” He turned back to Farsighter. “Well?”

  “Holdur is the first place that I can think of that’ll have a decent swordsmith.”

  “True, although I can think of an alternative to the one you thought of. I’ll speak of it later.” So saying, he turned back to the fire that had been started and began to prepare the game that had been brought back by the former Ranger.

  Cal raised an eyebrow to the older man, but he all he could do was shrug his own confusion at the statement.

  A quiet night, followed by an uneventful day interrupted only by brief rest breaks to allow for the swapping of the mounts seemed to pass all too quickly for Cal. There were still three or four hours of sunlight left when they came into view of Holdur. Cal hadn’t realised that he had even stopped until he heard a pointed cough from Farsighter.

  He had heard many tales of the old style frontier towns, and thought that he was adequately prepared. He was obviously wrong. Ahead lay the fortifications that surrounded the old town, the wall of which stood thirty feet high.

  In what seemed like the far distance to Cal stood the citadel where Lord Marig lived. Another throw back to the days when this really was the front line of the borders of Boraan. Standing over a hundred feet high it provided a fantastic view over the immediate area and would have allowed the Lord to easily direct his defence in times past.

  Cal took note of the fact that the citadel itself was actually separate from the main town, with a raised causeway connecting the two walled areas, above what looked like re-claimed marshland. He might not have been a trained soldier, but he was a hunter, and even he could see that any attempt to take the causeway without first securing either the town or the citadel would prove very costly for the attackers. But those were days long past. Now, the town had outgrown its defensive walls and spread to fill most of the hillside above which the original foundations had been laid.

  He moved his horse on at a slow canter to catch up with Dorrin and Farsighter, who had continued on whilst he was staring at Holdur. As they moved closer, he began to hear the sounds of town life. On the outskirts it wasn’t that different from Fallon’s Glen, but as they moved along the street and further up the hill the walls seemed to be closing in on him.

  Used to the openness of the country, he was unprepared for the sights and sounds that started to assault his senses as they progressed. The biggest shock was when a couple of ladies of dubious morals started to call down to him from the balcony on which they stood. Cal went a deep crimson colour whilst Dorrin and Farsighter burst out laughing.

  As they passed through the gatehouse between the new town and the old quarter Cal noticed Dorrin muttering to Farsighter and gesturing in the direction of a pair of guards that were idly leaning against the town wall. It was a muted conversation that was repeated several times as they passed through the old quarter and up to the fortified gatehouse that protected this side of the causeway. There at least the guards stood up when they saw the travellers approaching and moved to bar their way.

  “What business do you have in the citadel?” No courtesy, just a demanded question. As if they had upset the guard’s entire day by forcing him to actually get up off of his backside.

  Dorrin answered for them all. “We’re going to see Marig.”

  “That’s Lord Marig to you, and what makes you think that he’ll want to see you?”

  Cal grimaced slightly, knowing full well that they had to find replacement clothing for Dorrin, and after travelling as quickly as they had, the clothes that they were wearing were not exactly the cleanest garments he had ever had.

  None of this phased Dorrin in the slightest. “You will inform Marig,” he emphasised the Lord’s name, “that Guard Lieutenant Dorrin, nephew of His Majesty King Sielan, is at the gates and is either entering by invitation, or we’ll just have to crack a few heads on our way in. which is it to be.” As he finished, both his hand, and that of Farsighter, gently came to rest on the hilts of their swords.

  The guard’s eyes travelled over the pair and then on to Cal. Who not knowing quite what was expected of him, settled for just smiling at him. That probably unnerved the guard more than the sight of the two obvious swordsmen, though that was definitely not Cal’s intention. Of more surprise to Cal was the tone that Dorrin had adopted. This was the soldier who, although only young by most standards, already had several years of command experience under his belt. The man who had grown up surrounded by court intrigue, and knew exactly how to handle himself in any given situation. Frankly, it was a side of Dorrin that Cal had never suspected existed.

  The guard was equally at a loss. He glanced at his compatriot who just looked helplessly back. Returning his gaze to the three mounted riders he finally spoke a stuttering reply. “My Lord, forgive me but you are not exactly dressed like the nephew of the King. I will inform Prime Adviser Torbek of your arrival immediately and I’m sure that he’ll pass word to Lord Marig that you have arrived.”

  That was probably the best response that they were likely to get from the gate guards so Dorrin let it go at that, but he wasn’t going to sit and wait for them to return with the Prime Advisor. He nudged his mount forward, ignoring the protest of the guards, and led the other two across the causeway and into the keep of Holdur.

  Now that he was close up to the keep walls Cal could really appreciate how massive they were. The base, through which the gatehouse on the opposite side of the causeway led, was forty feet wide. The guardroom appeared to be housed inside the wall, so it was obviously not a solid construction, but even so, it was impressive.

  Dorrin kept the pace of the horses slow, so that the guard would have at least some chance of getting to Torbek before some scullery maid mentioned the fact that there were three strangers in the courtyard, which gave Cal a chance to continue his fascinated staring.

  The courtyard before the keep itself was busy with farriers tending to the Lords horses, soldiers passing to and fro, the general servants that served the keep running errands, and an assortment of others about their business. Although from the causeway it had appeared quiet, the courtyard was a hive of activity.
For some reason that struck him as odd, something to ask Farsighter or Dorrin about later he decided.

  He followed the lead of the others by handing the reins of his horse over to one of the stable boys after dismounting, before quickly joining them in front of the sculpted main entrance to the keep itself.

  Dorrin was already speaking to Farsighter. “When we meet with Torbek I’ll introduce you as my own advisor and Cal as my valet. It’s not really necessary, but it should avoid any complications.” Farsighter nodded his understanding.

  “I thought that you came through Holdur on your way north?” Cal was confused at the apparent secrecy involved with meeting the Prime Advisor.

  “Torbek doesn’t know why we were passing. We never actually entered the town itself. The arrangement to provide an escort was made between His Majesty and Marig in person, the idea being that the less people that knew of the trip, the better in terms of security.” It seemed to make sense to Cal. He knew that he would want to be as safe as possible if he were escorting the Princess.

  “You realise where that argument leaves you don’t you?” Farsighter’s voice was kept low.

  “It means that someone sold us out, and it was either Marig or someone back at the palace.” All three went silent for a moment before Cal spoke again.

  “What I don’t understand is why the King allowed his daughter to be escorted by the soldiers that I’ve seen round here. I’d have thought that he would have used the best available and from what I’ve seen so far, Old Man Fallon could probably take them on with his crook.”

  “Don’t be fooled by the idiots that you see around the keep.” Dorrin gestured back toward the guardhouse. “These are town militia. The troops that I travelled with were all guardsmen from the royal garrison. Each town has a detachment of the Royal Guard allotted to them, available for the orders of the King or members of the royal house. It’s a lot faster to send a message by globe to the outlying reaches of the Kingdom than to send a sizable portion of the army.”