It took them five days to cross the Plains of Barsoom east to west although Mehgrin’s Wall, stretching all along the horizon, had been visible for the last three of those days. It was a relief for all of them, including the horses, as the small group approached the green of the trees. The Great Southern Road had acted as a firebreak and contained the fire. Although it was mid afternoon they decided to make camp for the day, have a fire and brew tea. The horses were soon grazing hungrily amongst the trees on the far side of the road. Krissi was overjoyed at once again being in country populated with food and soon brought them a couple of rabbits before flying off again.
After an early start the following morning, it was near mid day before the three riders approached the gate in the wall marking the border of Southland. Expecting no one to be on duty, they were surprised to be challenged from the shadows of the gate house. They sat their horses as one of the sentries showed himself, repeating his challenge with a levelled crossbow.
“I said, who are you and what do you want?”
Arwhon noted the colour of the man’s uniform was basically Southland colours but not the garb of the usual gate guards.
“Are you a loyal Southland soldier?”
The guard was suspicious and looked behind him to check with the other guard standing in the shadows before raking his eyes past the small group and around the countryside. Satisfied there were only the three of them he answered.
“Yes, I’m loyal to Southland. Question is, are you?”
He lifted the crossbow slightly, emphasising his question.
Arwhon spoke to Shiri quietly.
“Lift the glamour please.”
Shiri obliged and the guard was confronted with a tall man in chainmail, a sword strapped to his back and possessing strange green eyes, a blond haired woman, also with strange eyes and dressed head to toe in green armour and a female Barsoomi Rider. Two of the three rode Barsoomi horses or he was a horse’s backside. A movement behind them drew his attention and his mind frankly refused to believe the beast he saw standing there.
He lowered the crossbow slightly, looking from one to the other, scarcely able to credit what his eyes were seeing.
“Gordy, come out here a minute and look at this.”
His companion came out from under the arch and goggled at what he saw before him. Arwhon spoke into the their silence.
“We are fighting for the freedom of Belvedere, indeed for all Men. It is important we talk to whoever is in charge. Immediately. Either take us to him or send for him. My Grandmother is Cristal nasi Tsalkini who sits on the Council of Ten in Belvedere.”
The guard was having a problem coping. This was far outside of anything he’d ever had to deal with previously. If they were enemy, they were very open about their doings but..... He reached a decision.
“Gordy. Take these people to the Duke. I believe the man. Don’t know why but he seems honest.”
Looking up at Arwhon he offered an opinion.
“Might be safer to appear like you did before though. Some of us shoot first these days.”
Arwhon thanked the guard as Shiri rewove the glamour and they nudged their horses to ride forward under the arch where two more soldiers eyed them warily. As they passed the gate guard, Arwhon looked down and with a twinkle in his eye offered some welcome news.
“You are the first in Southland to know this. Tarkent is free of the Dominion’s shackles.”
The guard’s face registered joy and disbelief at the same time as he stood and watched the group ride through. Every word had the ring of truth to it.
Three to four hours of following a taciturn Gordy through open woods then along winding forest tracks, up into the foothills of Mehgrin’s Wall, brought them to a largish camp. Only one tent was in evidence but the neatly folded bedrolls and regular horselines spoke eloquently of a disciplined command. As they dismounted and were led toward the tent, Arwhon suggested to Krissi that hunting might be fruitful, as it was better if the men did not see her yet. The small pony running free behind the group happily trotted off into the forest.
Gordy strode up to the guard stationed at the entrance to the tent and spoke to him. The guard ducked inside for a moment and returned, closely followed by a tall, distinguished looking man with a short forked beard, dressed in a well made uniform and wearing a brightly polished breast and backplate. He stood in front of the group and inspected them all before commenting.
“Gordy tells me that you are not as you appear. How do I know I can trust you? Just who the hell are these people who have arrived out of nowhere? Should I kill them now?” The Ring relayed to Arwhon who replied immediately.
“No, don’t kill us now. Listen to what we have to say first. I’m Arwhon nari Tsalk, grandson of Cristal nasi Tsalkini. It was I and Shiri here, plus others of our friends who rescued the Barsoomi heirs. This is Breeta, a Barsoomi Rider from the Black River Tribe who can vouch for us. We need to talk. Now. In private.”
The Duke was stunned. He knew a Barsoomi Rider when he saw one and this tall woman was definitely the genuine article. Besides, the young man in front of him spoke with a believable sincerity.
“My apologies, we live in tough times. I’m Duke Braden de Marne, in charge of the mounted forces of Southland’s army. Both scouts and cavalry.” He gave a stiff military bow. “Please come in.”
The Duke sent Gordy off to find his servant and have food and wine brought in as he closed the flap of the tent behind his guests who took the offered seats. Breeta remained standing just inside the door, her lance held loosely in one hand. At the Duke’s questioning look, Breeta replied.
“These people I ride with are important and valued, both to me and King Daveed of the Barsoom. If anyone passes your guard, they will not pass me.”
The Duke was becoming more and more intrigued. What was it about these two which engendered such loyalty from a Barsoomi? He was soon to find out as Shiri dropped the glamour. The Duke’s eyes widened as he took in all before him. M’Herindar. The rumours of their existence were true, and the green armour and chainmail, sword and dagger. All beautifully wrought, but the eyes. He had difficulty with the eyes. The woman, Shiri, with amethyst eyes, no whites and the man, Arwhon, with similar emerald eyes. The sight was disturbing and he caught himself staring.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “I just haven’t seen the like before.”
Arwhon chuckled. “I know how you feel. The first time I saw M’Herindar eyes was a bit of a shock. I wasn’t always like this. I’m still Man but look like M’Herindar. I was repaired by the Darkwood but that’s another story.”
At that moment there was a cough from the doorway.
“Enter.”
A serving man came in bearing a tray with food and drink for them all. As he stepped through the doorway, he stumbled and nearly dropped the tray when he caught sight of Breeta, waiting just inside the entrance, spear in hand. However, it was the two strange people sitting near the Duke which caused his heart to beat faster. He steadied himself and placed the tray on a nearby makeshift table before departing rapidly. The Duke leaned back in his chair.
“Please relax for a while and join us Breeta. At the moment we are surrounded by about five hundred cavalry men, most with a sword to hand. I think your charges will be fine.”
Breeta relaxed and unwound slightly, enough to sit and take food with them although she kept hold of her short spear with her left hand. As they ate, Arwhon recounted the tale of The Broken Lands and of their trip through and subsequent victory in Tarkent. The Duke was visibly energised by the good news and became more animated as the meal progressed. The wine helped too.
After his tale, Arwhon sat back and quietly evaluated the Duke, considering the man before him. He seemed competent and capable although they’d found him a little down in spirits. Under Arwhon’s enquiries, the Duke provided all he knew of Belvedere. The information was sparse, as communication with the inhabitants of the city was impossible and Duke Braden de Marne’s forces had
suffered many casualties in his efforts at harrying Martine’s army with guerrilla attacks.
“They have bowmen on all the approaches to their camp and we cannot get close enough to cause much damage. I am afraid we cannot help enough to avert the capture of Belvedere.”
That strange buzzing began behind Arwhon’s eyes, not painful but distracting. He swayed a little in his seat, alarming the Duke.
“Are you all right?” he asked concernedly, starting up and reaching forward to support Arwhon while Shiri lifted an eyebrow. She had seen this before. It usually presaged a brilliant strategy. Arwhon shook himself.
“Yes, fine thank you, these dizzy spells sometimes occur when I’m thinking about war but don’t last long. Duke Braden, how well do you know the lands around Belvedere?”
“Like the back of my hand. I played in them and rode them from childhood on. I reckon I know every square inch.”
Arwhon nodded.
“Archers are no use at night. We need to fire her food wagons to try to starve Martine’s army.”
“But that would do no good; she would simply import more food from Graswyn. At best it would be a minor inconvenience.”
“Only if there was more food available from that source. There are plans underway to deny her that option. We need to implement small strategies which will hopefully unbalance her thinking and make her desperate enough to attack Belvedere before she is truly ready. Especially before the city’s inhabitants become too weakened and dispirited to fight. If we can catch Martine off guard, we may be able to overcome the Dominion forces just as those in Tarkent did.”
Duke Braden wore a sad look on his face.
“You don’t know about the siege tower then.”
“Siege tower, what siege tower?”
The story didn’t take long to tell but Arwhon’s brain went into overdrive at the thought of the nearly finished siege tower waiting to pour Martine’s soldiers over the wall of Belvedere. King Daveed of the Barsoom could only have reached northern Tarkent by now. That is, if he’d mobilised immediately upon receiving Arwhon’s letter. Arwhon prayed he had. Still, it would be at least two more weeks before the Barsoomi King’s forces reached Graswyn. Two weeks! From what the Duke had just told him, it seemed Martine was almost ready to attack Belvedere immediately. It was too soon for Arwhon, a rethink of the problem was necessary.
“Duke, we have to slow Martine down if we can. Unfortunately, it will mean sacrifices. The fighting will be fierce and hard and our only advantage is she has no real cavalry. I think I know how to buy us time but I don’t know for how long. What do you think about this?”
They talked long into the night. Discussing strategy and the options available. Arwhon impressed the Duke with his reasoning and ability to see outcomes. Toward the end of their discussion Arwhon asked the Duke.
“Is the western gate into Belvedere heavily guarded?”
“They all are. Empress Martine has the city ringed with her troops. No one goes in or out.”
“Very well. You will just have to harass her forces the best you can, until the moment the city’s main gates are breached. If the city’s defending forces inside retire quickly enough, Martine may think it a route and throw everything she has into Belvedere through those main gates, temporarily freeing up the western gate. It would be handy to get women and children out of the city if it gets down to hand to hand fighting in the streets. With all Martine’s forces inside Belvedere, you will have to use every last man you have available to attack the rear of her army. It means you’ll need to move the cavalry closer to Belvedere and have your best scouts keeping watch on the situation. It may be a suicide mission to use all of your forces at once but if Empress Martine takes Belvedere, she can conquer all of the other lands in time. If that happens, our lives won’t be worth living. Belvedere is the key.”
Sadly the Duke agreed but was totally unprepared for what came next.
“Do you still have access to the southern coast of Southland?”
The Duke replied in the affirmative.
“Shiri and I will need a small craft. I intend to get into Belvedere. A small boat may be able to slip in without too much of a problem and I know boats. My father was a fisherman once. I’ll leave Breeta here to assist you and care for our horses. They’ll be saddened at being parted from us.”
Amazement was writ across both the Duke’s and Breeta’s faces at this proposal. Shiri was not surprised. One thing she appreciated about Arwhon was the fact he was a man of action who made things happen. Sitting and waiting was not his style. Arwhon forestalled any argument from the Duke by a simple statement of fact.
“I have full trust in your ability to carry out what we have planned. Just be there when the final attack comes. I’m counting on you.”
The Duke’s response was immediate.
“I will be, you can trust me on that.”
Breeta did not look pleased however. Arwhon bade her sit.
“Breeta, I know you as a capable Rider and a good fighter but Duran and Rancid are extremely important to Shiri and I. You know, as a Barsoomi, just what our mounts mean to us. I can think of no one I would trust more, in the present circumstances, to care for them both. You and your horse will provide some security for them so they won’t feel abandoned. I’ll attempt to explain to Duran what we are about to do but he will still feel some anxiety about being separated from me. The same goes for Rancid. He may only be a mule but the M’Herindar have gifted him and he’s bonded to Shiri. I need this of you, as a personal favour.”
What could Breeta say? She was being honoured by the trust shown to her.
Arwhon’s plan was to sail a small boat close in to the shore, all the way east along the coast then north into Moreland Bay, at the head of which lay Belvedere’s harbour. Krissi would be able to keep them in sight from the air; no problem as she could soar for hours on thermals or run along the shore if she preferred. Starting out during the day would enable Arwhon and Shiri to approach Belvedere by night if the winds were favourable and since the Dark Mage had released his hold on the weather after the Plains of Barsoom were successfully fired, the winds were now blowing steadily from the south again as they always had before. Such a long trip meant a lot of work in a small sailboat but if anything untoward occurred on their voyage, the boat should be blown in toward the shore. Arwhon hoped if such an event occurred, they would hit a favourable stretch of shoreline with beaches rather than cliffs and jagged rocks.
A few days later, with a light early morning mist lying over the ocean, a small party accompanied by several of the Duke’s men rode down to the shore of the Turquoise Sea. The Duke had passed the word around before they left and had found a few of his men, originally from this area, who knew of an old fisherman with a small sailboat to sell. It was these men who were detailed to accompany Arwhon and Shiri. Arwhon chatted with them during the ride down to the coast and they told him about the old man. He was now unable to make a decent living catching fish; the seas were apparently becoming a dangerous place for a solo sailor, mainly due to the possibility of being rammed by a Draakon Reaver ship, something the Reaver’s had lately taken to for sport.
With the Duke’s men in the lead, the small group soon reached the fisherman’s decrepit shack. The old man was extremely surprised when he answered his door and found armoured cavalrymen wanting to talk with him about parting with his aged fishing boat.
The grizzled old fisherman was more than happy to sell it and after taking Arwhon down to the jetty and showing him over it, set a ridiculously high price and held out a work-worn and gnarled old hand for payment. Arwhon took out his pouch and poured small golds into the extended hand. Far more than the asking price.
“Eee, a fella ud be able ta buy twa boats withn ah this gold,” the ancient fisherman spluttered as he accepted the coins. “Thankn ee stranger.”
Of course Shiri had Arwhon covered by a glamour or else the fisherman would have been signing against evil and running for his life.
>
Arwhon unstrapped his helm from Duran’s saddle and hugged the big grey’s neck, mentally reassuring the horse and explaining he had to cross water and they would all meet up again soon. Shiri was doing the exact same thing with Rancid. Krissi couldn’t understand what the fuss was about but Arwhon took her to one side and laid a hand on her to strengthen the bond. He then sent pictures of Shiri and him in the boat, sailing up the coast and pictures of Krissi running along the shore or flying above. He hoped she understood. Before much more time had passed, the boat had been provisioned and Arwhon and Shiri set off, tacking out to sea far enough to turn east and sail along the coast.
Cristal was worried. A worry which was now totally shared by the Council of Ten, or rather Nine, as Willem’s place had still not been filled. The food was running out in Belvedere and petty theft and thuggery were on the rise. Cristal had taken Merdon to one side and had a short chat with him but the perpetrators were not anyone in the Thieves Guild, just desperate hungry citizens brought low.
The Council was attempting to thrash out an action plan involving the parts of the populace who were desperate for food being given small amounts from the remaining stocks in the granaries. Low value horses were being slaughtered and the meat distributed as equitably as possible. Every part of the animals was being eaten. There were few dogs or cats around now and those folk who kept them were viewed with suspicion, as pets required food people could eat.
Even rats were fetching a good price and the city was freer of vermin than it had ever been before. Still, it was only a matter of time before the city was starved into submission or rioting tore it apart from the inside. A few fishing boats, lately pulled out of the water for repairs when the harbour burned were put back into the water and used to fish but the catches were small as no one was prepared to sail far from the safety of Belvedere’s harbour. No matter, every scrap of food helped.
The Fall of Belvedere Page 25