Mellody asked, “Drake, can you neutralize those amulets?”
He answered with a whispered spell that shattered all of Crawn’s protective devices. All the men looked shocked as Drake said, “There we go.”
“You can’t—” one man whispered.
Another just asked, “How?”
Drake looked at them and said, “I destroyed your Ocellen. Destroying his creations is easy.”
“You can’t touch us!” a man toward the back shouted.
Drake looked at them and smiled. “I am Lord Drake Carstairs, and this,” he bowed to Mellody, “is my wife, Lady Mellody Carstairs, Chief Adept of the Army of Vernardia. You men have committed murder on our lands. We condemn you to death.”
Several of the men screamed, “No!” but Drake ignored them. A whispered spell bound all the men, and Drake pointed toward the door. Another spell cleaned up the trash.
Mellody looked at the terrified innkeeper and said, “You can keep everything but their weapons. Have them delivered to Lord Mayor Stevert tomorrow.”
The poor man bowed several times before finally managing to say, “Yes, Lady Mellody, as you command. And thanks to the Gods that you’ve come to free us.”
Drake was marching his prisoners up the street, and she hurried her steps to catch up. When she was walking beside her husband she asked, “Where are you taking them, Drake?”
“To the Lord Sheriff.”
“Why bother?”
Drake looked at her and sighed. “I want a chance to question them about where General Markinson is, and how many men he’s sent out.”
“If any of them know,” she grumbled.
Drake chuckled. “Two of them are officers. They held back and let their men die.”
“Cowards.”
Drake chuckled. “Better for us in the long run.”
A crowd had formed behind them as they walked, and the noise alerted the sheriff and his men.
Lord Sheriff Stevert and four deputies came out of their office and stood waiting until Drake and Mellody came to a stop. The sheriff asked, “Lord Drake, has there been trouble?”
Mellody answered, “Yes, Sheriff Stevert, there has. Thirty-three Bresardian bandits infiltrated our town. I came upon one group of eleven while they were in the process of raping a young girl. Drake dealt with them, but unfortunately the girl was killed by one of her attackers. These,” she gestured toward the bound men, “had taken over an inn as their base of operations.”
The sheriff looked disturbed. “Lady Mellody, there are only eight prisoners.”
Mellody glanced behind her, and then shrugged. She simply said, “The rest put up a fight.”
One of the prisoners shouted, “They used magic against us! That is a breach of the rules of war between our kingdoms.”
The sheriff raised his eyebrows, but Drake shook his head. “There is no current war between Bresardia and Vernardia. As such, you are outside the rules of war. Your actions brand you as bandits, no matter what you believe you are accomplishing.”
“General Markinson will hear of this!”
Drake focused on the speaker and smiled. “Tell me about General Markinson,” he commanded in an eerie, echoing voice.
The man started talking, telling much the same story as the first group had. “The general has thousands of troops behind him!” the man finally shouted. “He’ll take our lands back from you filthy Vernardians!”
Drake waved the sheriff down from the porch. “Take them into custody. Their public execution should provide our people with some satisfaction as well as justice for the people they’ve killed.”
“Lord Drake,” the sheriff said in a timid voice, “you’re simply condemning them?”
“Yes.”
Mellody asked, “Do you have a problem with that?”
The sheriff looked into her eyes, and what he saw there made him take a step back. “No. No, Lady Mellody, I have no problem with that.”
Chapter 23
THE MORNING AIR WAS CRISP AND clear, and hundreds of people filled the square outside the city hall. Word had been spread by the people who had followed behind Drake and Mellody about the execution, and the people were anxious for the show.
Drake looked out of the city hall from a second-floor window and shook his head. He muttered, “This is ghoulish,” as he watched vendors selling beer, wine, spirits, and assorted finger-foods to the crowd.
“At least beheading is quick, Drake,” Mellody replied in a soft voice. “The Bresardians use slow strangulation as their preferred form of execution.”
Drake shook his head eloquently. “I guess I’d better start.” With that he went to the balcony on the front of the city hall. A simple spell amplified his voice.
He began speaking, and his voice echoed across the square. “People of Brewington, yesterday we discovered that a large party of bandits, former Bresardian soldiers, had invaded our town. Most of them died fighting. The remaining eight men were captured. Their crimes include theft, rape, and murder in several cities between here and the border of what used to be the Bresardian Continental Province.”
He paused for an instant and shook his head. “The former Lord General Markinson of the Bresardian Army has sent these groups into Vernardia to terrorize the populace in an effort to draw off Lord General Preston and his men. This is our answer.” He looked over to where the sheriff was waiting and nodded.
Lord Sheriff Stevert turned and two of his men led each of the condemned men out of the prison. Each man was bound and gagged, and their hair had been shorn short to avoid interfering with the headsman. They were dressed in undyed wool breechcloths for a pauper’s burial, and nothing else. The headsman, in traditional red leather clothing and hood, followed the last man with his sword on his shoulder.
The sheriff led the men to the porch of the city hall and stopped to look up at Drake for a moment. Seeing no sign that he was going to change his mind, the sheriff turned and motioned the first man up to the platform.
The two men holding the man forced him to kneel with his neck on the block. His shoulders were shaking as he wept, but there was to be no mercy. The headsman swung his sword in two-handed blow and the man’s head fell into a waiting wagon as the crowd burst into cheers. His twitching body was thrown into the wagon a moment later.
The scene was repeated six more times, but the last man, the youngest and lowest ranked, was to have a different fate. As the headsman brought his sword back, Mellody’s voice rang across the square.
“Hold! Headsman, stay your hand,” she shouted, and the headsman stepped back. “Prisoner, you are free. Tell your comrades and general what has happened here. Remind him that Bresardia was defeated and the war is over. Remind him that you, he, and everyone in the former Bresardian lands are now Vernardians, owing your fealty to the Carstairs family, as the people of those lands did before Bresardia seceded and captured them.”
One of the deputies led a saddled horse to the front of the building. A bundle of clothes, the prisoner’s by design, was tied behind the saddle.
Drake commanded, “Free him,” and the deputies holding the man cut his bindings. “Go now and deliver our message to your people. There is no war, and the actions of General Markinson are treason. We will not hesitate to use our full magical abilities against his followers.”
The young man, much younger than Mellody, looked up at them with tears in his eyes, then bolted for the horse. He was in the saddle and galloping away in an instant, and Drake sighed as he watched him go.
“Ride like the God of Pain is on your heels, boy,” he muttered. “Don’t make me kill all of those men.”
Mellody looked up at Drake and smiled. “I hope this works.”
* * *
Drake and Mellody stayed in Brewington until a message came from Mount Royal six days later.
“Lord Drake Carstairs, Lady Mellody Carstairs, the traitorous former Bresardian General Markinson has taken to the field with his entire command and is marching through
Vernardia, killing everyone they encounter and burning towns and crops as they go.”
“Lady Mellody, your hands are free in this matter, as are Lord Drake’s. You are instructed to use any and all force to protect Vernardia.”
“By my hand and in my name, Rochelle Feldman, Queen of Vernardia.”
A short time after they received the note, Drake and Mellody walked out of their suite wearing mage robes in the Carstairs silver and blue. Both of them sported the Carstairs Crest on the left breast.
Jeannette and Elwin, with the rest of the servants, met them on the ground floor. Elwin bowed as he said, “Lord Drake, as you commanded, your horses are ready to ride, and your saddlebags are as full of travel provisions as we can stuff them.”
Jean bowed to Mellody. “Lady Mel, your special supplies are tied to your saddle bow. Are you certain you won’t—”
“Jean,” Mellody interrupted, “we’re faster alone. Nothing is going to happen to us.”
Jeannette sighed deeply and shook her head, but she obeyed her mistress.
Drake led the way outside and found the road in front of the inn packed with as many people as it would hold. In the front, beside the two restive horses, was the city council along with Captain Alestan and his men.
The captain immediately stepped forward and bowed. “Lord Drake, please reconsider. The two of you alone—”
Drake raised his hand to stop the captain. “Your responsibility is the safety of Brewington and its people. Mellody and I are a force that needs no army behind it. We’ll deal with the traitor Markinson and his men.” The captain drew a deep breath as if to protest some more, but finally just shook his head in frustration and stepped back.
Drake and Mellody mounted their horses and a path to the gates cleared for them. As they rode out a cheer rose from the gathered people, speeding them on their way.
Drake set the pace, choosing to keep them at an easy canter. Mellody rode in silence beside him until the town had vanished behind them.
“How confident are you that we can defeat Markinson and his men?”
Drake chuckled. “Absolutely certain. Mel, you’ve never seen me at my worst. General Boatwright and his entire army wouldn’t be a challenge.”
“You and your secrets,” she groused, but kept her temper in check.
The two didn’t make a forced march of it. Rather, they made it a belated honeymoon, stopping early each day. They enjoyed the warm weather together, often skinny-dipping in streams they camped beside. Neither of them had a bashful bone in their bodies so they went only partially clothed or totally nude in camp.
It took nine days to encounter the first refugees from Markinson’s March. A group of riders approached their camp near sundown and Drake hastily clothed both of them.
“Hello the camp,” a voice shouted. “May some travelers share your fire?”
“Come ahead, travelers,” Drake answered, “and be welcome.” Three men, five women, and a dozen children came forward and stopped at the edge of the firelight.
“I am Fraldan Deristan,” and older man said as he bowed, “and with me are my family.”
Drake stood as Mellody came to his side. “I am Drake, and my wife is Mel.”
The family came forward now and spread out. The men and older women had been carrying sticks and pieces of wood, and they built up the fire a little. Fraldan sat across from Drake and nodded.
“Please accept our thanks, Drake. Have you heard about the attack?”
“Yes, we have.”
Fraldan nodded again. “The Bresardians are raping, killing, and burning their way across the kingdom. We’ve seen no sign of our army.”
“They were in the new territory trying to bring the people there into line,” Mellody said as she looked at the fire. “Our best information is that they are twenty days behind General Markinson.”
The woman beside Fraldan asked, “How do you know so much?”
Drake answered, “Information has been coming up from Mount Royal.”
The woman nodded. “You’re welcome to travel on with us in the morning.”
Mellody shook her head. “We are going the other way. I have to make sure my mother got away.”
Fraldan looked at Mellody, then at Drake. “Going to be a long walk.”
Drake shook his head, but his suspicions were fully aroused now. “We have our horses.”
Now Fraldan’s smile twisted into something evil. “You had horses.” He glanced up over Drake’s head and the men who had crept up behind them swung the stout branches they were carrying.
Drake and Mellody just sat calmly as the branches vaporized against Drake’s shields. Drake’s calm demeanor remained in place as he said, “I am the Adept Mage, Lord Drake Carstairs.”
“I am Lady Mellody Carstairs,” Mellody said as she rose to her feet, “Chief Adept of the Armies of Vernardia.”
Fraldan and his followers tried to flee, but Drake bound their hands and feet with a thought. “That was stupid,” he said as he looked at Fraldan.
“No, please don’t kill us,” the woman pleaded. “We’re only trying to get away!”
“Trying to get away with everything you can,” Mellody snarled.
Drake was shaking his head slowly. “We really don’t have time to waste on them.”
“What would you suggest we do then? Kill them here?” Mellody asked with her head tilted to the side and a pretty smile on her lips. There was a general moan of fear from the prisoners that drew her attention. “You have something to say?”
“Please, Lady Mellody, we aren’t their family,” a younger woman begged. “They forced us to join them!”
“They killed Papa!” a young girl cried.
Drake looked at Mellody, then scanned the minds around him. “It would seem that only the old man, the old woman, and these two fools,” he motioned to the men who had attacked them, “are related. The rest are as they claim, semi-captives fleeing the Bresardians.”
“What would you suggest?” Mellody asked.
“They did kill several men and women in the past few days. Bury the bodies here?” he asked as he looked at his still-smiling bride.
Mellody nodded. “The rest of you are free to take all their goods with you in the morning. The four members of the Deristan family are condemned.”
All four of the condemned began to thrash on the ground, but Drake’s spell held them fast and silent. The rest found themselves free. Mellody motioned and the condemned drifted to the side.
“Join us,” she invited, motioning to the side of the fire.
The women and children stepped forward and bowed. “Lady Mellody, are you sure?”
Mellody smiled and nodded once. “We welcome you, our people. We’re on our way to face the Bresardians and throw them back.”
One of the women cleared her throat and said, “Lady Mellody, Lord Drake, the Bresardians are headed northwest, toward Blue Ridge.”
Drake and Mellody exchanged glances. “We were told they were headed south toward Mount Royal,” Drake said cautiously.
The woman shook her head. “Begging your pardon, Lord Drake, but no, they aren’t. Not anymore. They were on the trade road south at first, but at Nerlanthan they turned northwest.”
Drake asked, “Are you sure?” in a suspicious tone.
The woman nodded rapidly. “Yes, Lord Drake. We’re from Nerlanthan.” She motioned, and two children came to her. “We fled south until we had the misfortune of meeting up with Fraldan and Methea.”
Mellody shook her head. “We are going to have to turn north as soon as we can, Drake.”
“Agreed,” Drake whispered.
Mellody turned toward the woman and nodded. “Thank you for the information.”
Drake looked toward the bound prisoners and sighed. “Kill them or free them?” he asked as he turned toward Mellody.
“Neither and both,” Mellody whispered. “SAH HAH ESAH CHO! ESAH MESTAL CHO!” she intoned as Drake’s face took on an almost comical look of s
hock. Turning back toward the women, Mellody asked, “What are your names. Just the adults, please.”
The woman they had been talking to answered, “Lady Mellody, I am Sunaria Chamberlain.”
Another woman said, “If you please, Lady Mellody, my name is Gloranna Hestal.”
The last two stepped forward together, but only the older of the two spoke. “Lady Mellody, I am Veran Baker, and this is my little sister-in-law, Meedan Baker.”
Mellody smiled and finished her spell. “Sunaria, Gloranna, Veran, and Meedan, each of you now has a devoted servant who will obey your every command. Be careful: if you tell them to kill themselves, they will.”
At the wide-eyed looks of shock from the women, Drake freed the prisoners. They stood and walked stiff-legged to their new mistresses. Drake looked at Fraldan and smiled. “Your punishment is life-long servitude to the women you captured. Don’t worry, though. You’re old enough that you shouldn’t last more than twenty or twenty-five years. Your sons look to have fifty or sixty years to regret your actions.”
Chapter 24
THEY PARTED COMPANY THE NEXT MORNING. The women had loaded their new servants with all their baggage for the long trek back home. Drake gave each woman ten copper coins to buy food with, then he and Mellody rode off in pursuit of General Markinson.
Drake looked at Mellody and shrugged. “Meeting them was fortunate for us and those women. We wouldn’t have found out about their turn until we reached Nerlanthan if Sunaria hadn’t told us.”
Mellody nodded. “Why would he head for Blue Ridge? That boy we sent back to him should have told him we were in Brewington.”
“The timing is wrong,” Drake muttered. “He couldn’t have made it back to Fort Grandan in just six days. Markinson doesn’t know we’re after him.”
“He could have made it to Nerlanthan in time,” Mellody said in a soft, thoughtful tone. “He could have warned Markinson there. That would account for the turn northwest.”
“Yes, it would,” Drake agreed. “This road is an almost straight shot from Brewington to Nerlanthan.”
The Chronicles of Amberdrake Page 20