Fall of a Kingdom

by Michael Greenfield

  Dorrin accepted Farsighter’s reasoning only because he could think of no other reason to hold against it.

  “We’ll wait another hour or two before heading across with some of the crew.” Dorrin’s expression of curiosity required no question to be voiced. “I’d like to ask around and find out if our friend from Nibar’a is still dogging our trail.”

  “If he’s cut across land we should have gained two weeks, perhaps three.” Dorrin looked thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose he could have hired the next captain available, but even then he would be a few days behind us, and we’d note the ship as it made harbour.”

  “Perhaps, but I’d still like to check. If he’s dropped off up the coast and then makes his way over land he could be in town in another day or two with us being none the wiser, and that’s not something I’d like.”

  Dorrin grunted his agreement as they watched the carriages disappear into the city.

  Cal had to try very hard to look unimpressed with the sights as they travelled through Mid’gra to the palace. It seemed that every new place he visited was bigger and better than the last.

  The carriages each had a driver and footman, both clothed in red and blue uniforms that looked tailored to his untrained eyes. Collett, Luda and Vorston had taken the first carriage, leaving the second to Cal and Tamala. As soon as they had moved from the quay a troop of eight cavalrymen had joined the front of their procession and proceeded to lead the way through the early morning crowd.

  Within a couple of streets they had obviously moved from the dockside area of the city and on to the merchant’s area. Richly adorned shop fronts faced out onto the streets whilst the corners of each junction were strewn with vendors selling their wares from stalls they had wheeled into place earlier.

  Even at this hour the number of people buying and selling had Cal wondering what it would be like later on, or even if anyone would be able to do any trade later. Tamala noted his look and leaned across to whisper in his ear.

  “Religion dear, they don’t trade between noon and mid-afternoon.”

  Cal shook his head slowly, realising not for the first time that he had a lot to learn, not just about skill at arms, but also about the people that lived around him.

  His attention was brought back to the street as they began to climb the hill up to the palace and its surrounding grounds. He had already been informed that the barracks and training area were adjacent to the palace itself, thus warning him of the size of the complex they were approaching, but Tamala had failed to mention the fact that the legal and civil services also housed their central offices in the same buildings. As they drew up to the surrounding wall of the palace Cal saw that it led off to the left and right of them for at least a quarter mile in each direction.

  The palace dominated the view as they passed through the huge gates in the wall. Glistening white in the early morning sunlight, it appeared to twinkle, as if something had coated the wall with stardust. Tall windows covered the front central portion of the building, tinted in various hues that Cal thought was just a bit over the top, but the effect was magnificent. He heard a slight gasp from his side and he smiled at the knowledge even Tamala was impressed by what they saw.

  The carriage crunched its way across the courtyard, causing Cal to glance at the surface they travelled over. It appeared to be covered with tightly packed gravel, something to add to the list of things that he had never seen before. He noticed Tamala smiling at his obvious curiosity and quickly stuck his tongue out at her, causing an eruption of peeling laughter.

  Further play was interrupted by the carriage lurching to a standstill. The door was swung open by a footman, wearing the bright gold and blue uniform that Cal had been previously informed denoted a member of the household staff. With a silent nod toward the footman Cal stepped down, turning immediately to offer his hand to Tamala before returning his attention to the reception committee that awaited them. Although Luda was the senior amongst them in terms of noble rank, it was Collett that took the lead and stepped toward the group stood by the steps to the main entrance.

  Myerscough stood waiting for them, flanked by a pair of younger men that were obviously his own assistants. He quickly stepped forward as Collett approached and held out his hand.

  “Commander Collett, the Chancellor has been informed of your arrival and awaits you and your party in his office. If you would follow me.”

  Collett accepted the hand and nodded his agreement. “Of course. Have you a guide that could show Lieutenant Ironsson and his good lady the sights?” He motioned toward Cal and Tamala.

  “Young Ballard here would be delighted to show the Lieutenant the palace and it’s grounds.” One of the two younger men stepped forward and gave a short bow.

  “Good. If that’s settled I will leave Cal to enjoy his morning.” Collett stepped alongside Myerscough, clearly indicating to the man that he wanted to speak to the Chancellor sooner, rather than later. To his credit Myerscough didn’t even flinch as the soldier moved next to him, but managed to turn with Collett’s passage, so that he faced him throughout the quick about-face.

  Cal stood bemused for a moment as Myerscough almost had to run in order to stay beside Collett as they disappeared through the large doors. His humorous mood only interrupted when the young man introduced as Ballard coughed politely.

  Collett and the others were suitably impressed by the décor they observed as Myerscough led them through the entrance and into the main reception area. Two large crystal chandeliers hung from a ceiling that was easily forty feet above their heads. A ceiling that was covered by an enormous fresco depicting some glorious battle from Galorn’s past.

  Luda whistled appreciatively as he took in the sight. Walls were adorned with intricate tapestries and paintings. Mage wrought glow-balls were used to provide even lighting throughout the room so as to best show off the works of art.

  “Fit for a dwarven hall,” murmured Vorston, “perhaps even my own.” From the stout dwarf this amounted to an exceptional admission, though Myerscough appeared not to notice.

  “The Chancellor awaits in the main audience chamber. Unfortunately, His Majesty is currently at His hunting lodge north of the city, but you will find that we have a mage stood by in case your message requires His immediate return.”

  Collett nodded at the statement, though Luda and Vorston could tell that he would have preferred it if His Majesty had been residing in the palace at this moment in time. Although no one had mentioned it outright, people were starting to worry at the length of time that it was taking for them to reel in the kidnappers.

  “I feel that His Majesty may well wish to return to the palace when He hears what we have to say.” Collett glanced sideways at the Chancellors aide. “You might also want to ask General Jerito to attend.”

  Myerscough’s eyes widened fractionally but he said nothing. His only reaction was a slight hand signal to the remaining aide that had accompanied him to greet the party, which had the effect of sending him scurrying off through a side door.

  “If you will.” Myerscough motioned them through the large door at the end of the room they had reached. Collett had expected this to be the entrance to the audience chamber, but in fact it was a smallish room with no other apparent exit. “My sincerest apologies.”

  Myerscough stepped back from the door, just as it slammed closed.

  Friends and Enemies

  Cal and Tamala followed their guide through a maze of rooms, having entered the palace through an even more decorative entrance than the others, each seemingly more spectacular than the other. Ballard appeared to know the purpose and history of each one of them and definitely enjoyed the chance to show off his knowledge.

  As they passed through one room Cal caught the clash of metal against metal coming from through one of the windows. Drawn toward the sound he found himself gazing out of the open window and down into what was obviously an exercise square. Easily a hundred yards across, the square held perhaps twenty pairs of
officers running through their sword practise. Several of the pairs could be seen to be performing quite complex moves with each other, starting off slowly, then repeating the move quicker each time they went through the routine, until they were slashing their swords at a blistering speed.

  Noticing Ballard by his side Cal spoke. “They don’t use practise blades?”

  “Our officer corps never use practise blades. To do so denotes that they are scared of their swords.”

  Cal smiled. “It wouldn’t be my own sword that I would be scared of.”

  The young guide returned the smile. “Perhaps you and your Lady would like to see a demonstration?”

  A slight nod from Tamala caught the attention of Cal’s eyes. “Perhaps we might.” He gestured for Ballard to lead the way as the pair fell in alongside him once more.

  Two minutes later they found themselves entering the exercise area almost directly below the window they had first seen it from. A few of the closer officers noticed their arrival but they continued their swordplay without comment.

  Cal followed their style for a while before seeing that a few officers were sat out on the far side of the yard. Without a word to Ballard he strode round the periphery of the pairs and approached the seated group. As he arrived in front of them Ballard leapt forward to make the introductions that he felt were necessary, though Cal thought formal introductions were not, even if it would have raised a warning eyebrow from Tamala.

  “Gentleman, may I present Lieutenant Calmagyr Ironsson of Boraan.

  Lieutenant, I have the honour of presenting Major Jonas Malin, and Captains Harth Mellor, Tomas Baldock and Franc Astridson.”

  “A pleasure.” Cal bowed his head briefly, as he had been shown to do by Dorrin and Tamala during his lessons.”

  “Lieutenant.” Malin stood and held out his hand.

  Cal grasped it and was surprised at the strength he felt in the clasp. The Major looked quite slight, slightly shorter than Cal with thinning brown hair, though his straight nose and square chin gave him a distinguished air about him.

  Mellor and Baldock could have been twins, both being similar in their heavy build and with dark hair and eyes, whilst Astridson was a complete contrast. His almost white hair and brilliant grey blue eyes coupled with his rangy frame to give an instant impression of speed. The way he moved caught Cal’s attention also, as it was the same cat-like stride that Collett used.

  Without fully understanding why, Cal had already marked Astridson down as the better swordsman of the four.

  “Gentleman, I would ask a favour. I have been aboard ship for two weeks and have had scant chance to practise with the blade, would one of you be kind enough to spar with me.”

  Almost predictably three sets of eyes turned toward Astridson. “It would indeed be an honour. I have long wondered as to the reputed skill of the officers of the army of Boraan.” The comment made Cal wish that he had his bow with him, he would easily have taught them some respect in an archery contest, but he had left it back aboard the Hurricane as bows were not the weapon of choice amongst officers.

  “Thank you Captain.” Cal nodded to the man and then turned to Tamala. “Perhaps you would like to take a seat.” He made a show of glancing round the area before pointing to a raised dais with some seating on it. Even now he remembered that they had another mission and the extra height should afford Tamala with a decent view of the entire training area and allow her to spy out where other items of interest might lie.

  Tamala’s accepting nod in response showed her approval at Cal’s thinking. Before he could say anything else she stepped forward to be right against him. For his ears only she whispered, “He looks good, be careful.” Stepping back she pulled a silk handkerchief and tucked it into his breast pocket. “A token for my champion.”

  Cal could feel the colour rising about his cheeks but refused to be drawn. Returning his attention to Astridson he saw that the lithe soldier already had his blade out and was proceeding to run through a few warm up exercises.

  The blade instantly caught Cal’s attention. It was slightly shorter than a normal sword, and considerably thinner across its breadth. A slight curve along its spine brought the blade slightly back upon itself instead of holding a straight line. Cal knew from his own days in the forge that such a blade could only have been made by a master smith and was probably worth a small fortune.

  Ignoring the feeling that this might have been a bad idea, Cal started to run through the exercises that Collett had shown him. As he let his mind settle on the movement of his arms and body he began to relax, helping him to focus his concentration on watching his opponent run through his own routine.

  Malin let the two swordsmen carry on for a few minutes before calling them both together.

  “Gentlemen, I have no idea how sparring is handled in Boraan but here we continue until one of you either draws blood or withdraws, and if you’re going to draw blood, please make it a slight wound.” He grinned momentarily, “Our healers get upset if we seriously hurt someone.”

  Cal returned the grin with a fleeting flash of his own before turning to face Astridson. Raising his sword in salute he dropped into a wary stance, blade held almost level with his eyes, whilst the captain returned the salute and raised his own blade slightly above and to the right of his own head.

  The first blow whistled toward Cal almost before he realised that it was coming. Reflexes alone saved him from getting cut immediately, bringing his sword through to create a violent ring as it blocked.

  He flicked his arms out and the Galorn officer was forced to make a block of his own. Within moments both men were soaked with sweat as they traded lightning fast blows. Concentration furrowed both brows as they sought an opening in the others defences. From her place upon the dais Tamala let out a most unladylike cheer as Cal forced Astridson onto the defensive. The cheer almost immediately turned into a gasp of apprehension as Cal was forced backward.

  The three Galorn spectators roared their approval from the side, causing several of the other officers training in the yard to turn their attention to the bout. After a few moments of furious whispering a crowd began to form around the pair.

  Cal was tiring, but his natural stamina from a childhood helping round the smithy was allowing him to keep up with Astridson just. Opposite him Astridson was sweating profusely, looking almost as tired as Cal felt. Cal’s arms were beginning to burn just from the task of constantly keeping his sword up, without the added exertion of actually swinging a blow at his opponent.

  By now members of the household, as well as several of the lower ranks had joined the crowd, when Astridson abruptly stepped back from the contest.

  “Sir, you do me honour with your skill. I cannot concede for obvious reasons.” He motioned the crowd awaiting this fresh turn of events. “Perhaps a solution that allows us both to walk the field with honour intact.”

  “Such as?” Cal was more than just a little curious as to what this man had in mind.

  “A blood oath.” Cal looked slightly confused at the answer. “We draw each other’s blood simultaneously and thus neither of us loses face.”

  A hasty glance in Tamala’s direction revealed a look of horrified concern on her face. “What of the oath?”

  “I’ve never faced someone who could compete with me at the blade. I don’t fancy the chance of facing you in battle.

  The oath is that neither will fight the other on the battlefield.”

  Cal thought on it for some moments whilst the crowd that had formed around them looked on with bemused interest. After what seemed an age, but was only a couple of seconds, Cal slowly replaced his sword in its scabbard over his shoulder.

  Astridson mirrored the movements, placing his own into a similar scabbard that also rested between his shoulder blades. Cal smiled at that. For all of his observation of the man whilst he warmed up he had failed to notice that particular similarity.

  Both drew their hunting blades with their left hand and raised their ri
ght. Cal was a little slower as he was following what Astridson did. A swift, downward pull and both men stifled a wince. Then they firmly grasped each other’s hand, not in the warrior tradition that Farsighter had shown him, but in the true shake of friendship, palm to palm.

  Both men were silent for a moment, then they both started to giggle. Slowly the giggles turned from a muffled sound to wholehearted laughter. Seconds later they both required the assistance of others to remain upright.

  Cal could feel tears running down his cheeks as he looked at Astridson. “Be honest, how much longer could you have carried on?”

  Astridson grinned as he replied, “As long as you!”

  “A little less than five seconds then?”

  “About that.” Both collapsed laughing again.

  “Give a soldier a sword and he becomes a little boy again!”

  Cal looked up to see Tamala staring disapprovingly at the pair of them but he just couldn’t stop laughing. He tried to explain the exhilaration that he felt from the adrenaline pumping through his veins but found that the words would not come to him.

  Finally he managed to string together a coherent sentence. “Ask him about it,” he motioned toward Astridson, “he understands.” His eyes saw past the tall soldier as he waved his hand at him. Stood at the edge of the training area was a tall figure in black armour. Cal didn’t need to get a closer look to know that he was the same figure that he had met against the dwarves, and again in the inn at Nibar’a.

  Several of the crowd moved across his view momentarily, but the figure was still stood there when they parted again. Ignoring the approving comments from those about them Cal nodded his head in the direction of the figure.

  “Tell me, do you know that warrior stood on the far side?”

  Astridson looked in the indicated direction. “Cor’dell, one of the chancellor’s favourites.” His voice carried a note of disgust. He saw Cal’s questioning expression. “He serves the chancellor in the absence of His Majesty.”