Fate of the Crown

by Paul J Bennett

  Now in comparative safety, she halted, fighting the panic. Her mind was in a whirl, her family dead, her village put to the torch; it was all too much for her to handle. Tears streamed down her face as it shook her to her core. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. It would do no good, dwelling on the horror. Instead, she must take action, the time to grieve would be later when she was safe.

  Her father raised horses; the mighty Mercerian Chargers that were so prized by knights. She turned and ran for the stables, determined to escape. The attached pasture ran parallel to the main road into town, and she noticed a group of soldiers running in her direction. As they drew closer, she recognized one of the local militia, likely retreating from the attackers. She waved at them, only to see them alter course, making for her location.

  "My lady," called out their leader, "you have to get to safety."

  "No time, Hugh," she said. "We must get to the stables. I won't give them the satisfaction of getting the horses."

  "I don't know how to ride, my lady," returned the sergeant.

  "It doesn't matter, we'll just chase them out of the stables. I'll open the gates, and with any luck, they'll run off. What's happening in the town?"

  "It's terrible," the man said through tears, "they're raping and pillaging. Anyone who stands up to them is taken down by a swarm of soldiers. It's like a scene from the Underworld. We're all fleeing for our lives."

  "Hugh, you go and find whomever you can. Tell them to head north, to Wickfield. I'll try to join you after we've taken care of the horses. The rest of you head to the stables; you know what to do."

  "Aye, Miss,” said the sergeant, turning around and running off.

  Only two enemy horsemen were at the stables, light cavalry by the looks of them. They were dismounted and had apparently just arrived, for one held the reins while his companion headed toward the stable doors. Aubrey's spell of sleep took care of the horse minder, while her soldiers took out the other, cutting him down after a brief fight.

  Her men rushed inside while she mounted one of the cavalry horses. "Can any of you ride?" she called out.

  One of them called back, "I can, Miss."

  "Come and take this other horse. Ride as fast as you can to the western edge of town. Find anyone fleeing and tell them to head north, the hills are too dangerous. Lead them onto Wickfield if you can."

  "Surely the army will come after us?" he protested.

  "Perhaps, but we can flee into Norland if we have to. Keep them as safe as you can. We'll follow you shortly."

  She returned her attention to the stables. The remaining town militia had opened the large barn door and chased the horses out to the courtyard. The massive beasts were mulling about mindlessly, nibbling on the sparse grass that was in evidence this early in the spring.

  Aubrey rode among them, trying to shoo them away, but still, they milled about, much to her frustration.

  "They don't want to leave," called out a soldier.

  "I can see that," she replied. "Never mind, we'll have to leave them, we don't have time. At least the king's men will have to chase them down, perhaps it will buy us some time."

  "Where to, Miss?"

  "This way," she called, trotting northward. "We'll cut across the Dunwin farm and then turn east to find the road to Wickfield. Hopefully, we'll see others we can help." She trotted off, careful to ease her pace so that the soldiers could keep up.

  They arrived at the Dunwin farm to find it deserted. Though the king's soldiers had not yet reached this far, the smoke in the distance had likely warned the inhabitants of the approaching destruction. The small group rode across the fields, past grazing cows that looked up in mild interest at the travellers.

  It didn't take long before they spotted the first of the refugees. A large line of survivors headed towards them from the town as smoke drifted from torched buildings. The small contingent of militia halted, trying to make out details and then Aubrey heard a noise. It began as a distant thunder, growing louder as they listened. She turned to see the cause; a group of Mercerian Chargers cutting across the field, led by her faithful pony Lucius. She had not ridden him since she was a little girl, yet the beast still remembered her, trailing her from the stables with the other great warhorses on its heels.

  "It seems we were successful after all," mused one of the soldiers.

  "So we were," she agreed, "but we have more pressing business." She turned to look down the road, south, to where the tail end of the refugees were still fleeing the town. A half a dozen horses were lined up behind them, their shiny armour leaving no doubt to their identity.

  "Knights!" she swore.

  "What do we do now?" asked the soldier.

  She glanced around, taking in all she could. "You men get behind that bush over there, the one that lines the road. When I stop them, I want you to hit them, and hit them hard."

  "But they're knights," he protested.

  "You will have surprise," she said, "and their focus will be on me, I will see to it. Make sure you strike swiftly, for you'll only get one chance."

  They grumbled, but they did as they were commanded. Aubrey trotted her mount to the roadway, waiting as the townsfolk fled northward.

  The knights sat waiting, likely to initiate a charge to inspire more fear. Aubrey remained still until the last villager passed, and then turned her horse sideways so that her flank faced south, toward the enemy riders.

  The sight must have intrigued them for they cautiously advanced northward, drawing closer by the moment. Soon, they were within hailing distance, and one of them lifted a visor to reveal his face.

  "Stand aside," he called out, "and make way for the Knights of the Sword."

  "These people are not soldiers," she replied. "Be gone and see to your master."

  The knight looked to his companion, who simply shrugged.

  "I'm afraid we can't do that," he replied. "Surrender yourself in the name of the king."

  "He is no king of mine," she angrily retorted.

  "Traitorous cur," called the knight, flipping down his visor as he spurred his horse into a gallop.

  Aubrey focused her attention and started casting. The world around her became a blur as she saw the runes of power in her mind. She let loose with her magic, a simple spell of slumber, but with all the power she could muster. The visor hid the knight's face, yet the effect was clear, for his horse veered to the side of the road, its rider falling from the saddle with a crash.

  His companions, who had watched in amusement, now reacted with panic, unsure of what had transpired. As a group, they rode forward, intent on blood.

  Another spell flew from her hands, but this time it was a mount that was her target. The mighty steed stumbled in its new state of drowsiness, sending the rider tumbling. The others knights pulled back on their reins, halting their advance, their attention firmly on the young woman before them.

  "Now!" she called out.

  The soldiers, her soldiers, ran from cover, their swords flashing in the sun. They mobbed the knight closest to them, pulling him from the saddle and finishing him off with their blades.

  The three remaining knights wheeled their horses about to meet this new threat, the mysterious mage all but forgotten.

  Aubrey saw a sword rise and fall, the knight driving it into the arm of one of the militia. His victim fell to the ground, rolling to avoid the horse's hooves.

  One of her men grabbed the knight's leg as he rode by. It was a desperate move, but the added weight pulled the rider off balance. His horse reared up, and the king's man fell from the saddle with a sickening thud as his helmet struck the ground.

  The two remaining horsemen cut right and left, keeping the others at bay. Aubrey concentrated, her hands tracing patterns as she did so. A horse slowed, the spell of slumber not quite powerful enough to fell the beast, but it hampered the knight's efforts. One of the militiamen struck out, taking the knight in the small of the back. The knight slumped forward, dropping the reins, and then f
ell from the saddle to land, unmoving.

  The last of the king's men stood in his saddle, swinging his sword down with all the might he could muster. A footman tried to dodge, falling back, but the blade cut into his face, leaving a ragged gash that bled profusely. As the defenders retreated, the knight surged forward, intending to run them down from behind.

  As one of the fleeing men struck out wildly with his sword, the blade slid across the chainmail that protected the rider's leg, and the man lost his balance, stumbling. The knight turned in anticipation, raising his visor to see his enemy.

  A dagger flew through the air, hitting him squarely in the face. It was not a killing blow, but the rider yelled out in pain, dropping his sword to remove the blade from his face; it was the last thing he managed to do. The footmen advanced, taking advantage of the situation. Swords stabbed forward, and the enemy dropped to the ground, his horse bolting off as he did so.

  Aubrey dismounted, coming to the aid of her men. Two had suffered wounds, one a nasty gash across his face.

  "Hold still," she called, placing her hands upon him. She uttered the magical words, and then the wound healed, closing the cut and leaving only a red line where the gash had been.

  "Strip them," she ordered, "and bring their horses."

  "It will take too long," the man replied.

  "Then throw the bodies on the back of their horses and lead them. We'll strip them later."

  "This one is alive," called out a soldier.

  "Finish him off," she said, "we have no time for prisoners."

  A knife flashed through the knight's visor, ending his protests. The soldier stood, looking about at the carnage. "We did it," he said.

  "Yes," she admitted, "but we must hurry. It won't take long for others to follow and we need to be away from here as quickly as possible."

  * * *

  Two days later found them on the road to Wickfield which ran some forty miles or so, most of it through fairly flat terrain. The refugees were strung out in a long line, many abandoning their goods along the route in an effort to lighten their load and reach the safety of the northern village.

  When word came of riders to the north, Aubrey grabbed two men and rode to intercept them, prepared for a fight, but what she saw took her by complete surprise.

  Revi Bloom rode toward them, flanked by Dames Beverly and Hayley, while a third woman accompanied them.

  "Cousin," she called out.

  "Aubrey?" replied the red-headed knight. "Saxnor's balls, what happened?"

  "They burnt Hawksburg," she called back, her voice full of emotion. "They killed everyone, burned the city to the ground. Valmar and his men are looting. It's a nightmare."

  "You're safe now," soothed her cousin. "We'll get you to safety, all of you."

  "How do you intend to do that?" asked Revi. "Have you seen how many people there are?"

  "We'll use the gate," said Beverly, turning to the mage.

  Her look gave him no choice but to acquiesce. "Very well," he said, "though it will take a long time." He gazed once more at the refugees, "A very long time."

  "Are you being followed?" asked Beverly.

  "Not that I know of. How did you end up here, of all places? I thought you were dead."

  "I've heard that a lot lately," Beverly replied, "but I can assure you I'm quite alive, and so is the princess. Now, let's see to these people of yours. Hayley, ride south and keep your eyes peeled. Just to the back of the line, mind you, don't go wandering off. Give a shout if you spot any sign of pursuit."

  "You think they'll follow?" asked the ranger.

  "I doubt it," she replied. "If what Aubrey says is true, they're likely half drunk on stolen ale. I don't think they'll pursue when there's still plunder to be had."

  Hayley rode off, leaving Aubrey at a loss for words.

  "Perhaps," offered Albreda, "an introduction might be in order?"

  "Of course," said Revi, "may I introduce Lady Aubrey Brandon of Hawksburg," he turned to Albreda, "and this is Albreda, Mistress of the Whitewood."

  "I've heard of you," said Aubrey. "You helped with the recent rebellion, didn't you?"

  "I did," the witch replied, "and I'm helping with this war of yours, too. Now, let's get you looked after, shall we." She turned to Revi. "Master Bloom, where is this gate of yours?"

  "It is west and slightly north of here," the mage replied.

  "You cracked the secret of the gates?" asked Aubrey in surprise.

  "Yes, some time ago, but I'll bring you up to speed later. I trust you've kept up with your magic?"

  "Of course," she smiled, "and, you might say, I've made a monumental discovery."

  "Which is?" asked Revi, his interest obvious to all.

  "I'll tell you about it later," was all she said.

  Sixteen

  Return to Queenston

  Spring 962 MC

  Albreda stepped out from the cave to see the settlement of Queenston spread before her.

  "You've been busy," she commented.

  "Yes," confirmed Beverly. "Her Highness thought it best we secure a safe place to build up our army."

  "How many people are here?" she asked.

  "With the refugees coming from Hawksburg? I'm not sure, but I should think we will have over a thousand soon, maybe even double that when the army is in town."

  "I don't see many troops," the witch said, looking around.

  "They're mostly in Kingsford, waiting to march."

  Small groups of villagers from Hawksburg filed past them as they stood, observing the town. Revi had been operating the gate for hours, teaching Aubrey as he did so. Almost a quarter of the refugees had arrived, but many more were yet to come.

  "I'm surprised we couldn't just gate directly here," mused Albreda. "My spell of recall would work that way if you had a magic circle here."

  "Revi says everything is tied to the temple in Erssa Saka'am, though he doesn't know why."

  "What do you think?"

  Beverly thought it over a moment, "I suppose it's more secure that way. You would have to control the main temple to allow access."

  "Seems reasonable to me," replied the mage.

  A voice called out from below, "Beverly!"

  They looked down to see two people walking toward them with a large dog following along.

  "Your Highness," replied the knight, "what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in Kingsford?"

  "We were," replied the young princess, "but we were eager for news."

  "Yes," agreed Gerald. "What took you so long? We expected to come here and find you already back." He stopped talking, his thoughts interrupted as he recognized Beverly's companion. "Lady Albreda? I must say this is a pleasant surprise."

  "I bring greetings from Baron Fitzwilliam," the witch replied.

  "But how..."

  "That's a long story, I'm afraid, one that will have to be told at a later date. For now, let us gather together, as I have much news to impart. Beverly has filled me in on your activities, but I must tell you what the baron has been up to. Do you have somewhere we can talk in private?"

  "Of course, come this way. We have a hall we can use."

  "Are you coming, Beverly?" asked Anna.

  "I'll wait for Aubrey, Your Highness, if that's permitted."

  "Your cousin? You found her?"

  "Yes," she replied, "but I'm afraid it's not good news. They've sacked Hawksburg."

  Anna cast a glance at Gerald, who wore a shocked look. "Very well, catch up with us when you can, we'll be in the meeting hall."

  Beverly returned to helping the refugees after they came through the gate. It was late evening by the time they all arrived. Finally, Aubrey stepped through the flame, followed shortly by Revi Bloom.

  "You look tired, cousin," said Beverly.

  "I'm exhausted," she replied, clutching a book. "So much has happened. Did the horses make it through safely?"

  "They did, though I'm surprised you brought them. You didn't know about the gates, s
o what were you intending to do?"

  "I simply didn't want them falling into Valmar's hands," explained Aubrey. "I didn't expect them to follow me. It was actually Lucius."

  "Your old pony?"

  "Yes, the old fellow came after me and the rest just trailed along behind."

  "Well, we can certainly use the mounts. What have you got there?" Beverly asked, pointing at the book.

  "It's a spell book. It belonged to my great-grandmother."

  "She was a spellcaster?"

  "Yes, a Life Mage, in fact. I've been studying it. I can't wait to tell everyone what I found. Revi has filled me in on your adventures. It seems I missed quite a lot."

  They stood looking at each other for a moment, and then Beverly noticed a look of sorrow pass over her cousin's face. "I'm sorry to hear about your family, Aubrey. I know it must pain you."

  Tears sprang from the young woman's eyes, running down her cheeks. "They hung them up like slabs of meat, Beverly. It was horrific!" Her anguish turned into great wracking sobs, overwhelming her. Beverly quickly stepped forward, embracing her suffering cousin, holding her tight.

  "There's nothing you could have done to save them," the knight said. "They would have killed you too if you'd have been there."

  She held onto her a little longer until she felt the tenseness release. Aubrey stepped back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "It was Valmar," she said through clenched teeth. "I recognized him."

  "You saw Valmar? You were lucky they didn't catch you."

  "I was in spirit form," she replied. "They couldn't see me."

  "Spirit form? There's obviously more to this story," said Beverly, "but we should find the princess first, as you'd only have to repeat it. Come on, I'll take you to my hut, and we'll clean you up a little. You can leave your book there, it'll be safe."