Fate of the Crown

by Paul J Bennett

  "True," agreed Kraloch, "but what if they simply run into the hills?”

  "I don't think they will," replied Hayley. "The terrain is very rough around here and food scarce."

  "We didn't have any problem finding food," countered the shaman.

  "Yes, but you're skilled hunters and have weapons. The prisoners will have no such advantage."

  "I concede the point," said Kraloch. "Now have some meat, it will give you strength."

  Revi finished a mouthful before speaking, "Aren't you afraid they'll detect the fire?"

  "No, we are a long way from the village, and the fire is small."

  "You're very skilled at this sort of thing," observed the mage.

  "It is our way of life," Kraloch responded. "When on the hunt, we do not wish to alert our prey."

  Hayley smiled, knowingly.

  "What are you smiling at?" asked Revi.

  "Kraloch didn't mention it," she said, "but we're also downwind from the village. Any smell will carry away from them."

  "You're enjoying this far too much," said the mage.

  "Aren't you?" she replied.

  "No," he stated. "Much as I enjoy your company, I'd rather be in a nice warm building somewhere."

  "No doubt deep in study," offered Kraloch.

  "Yes," agreed Hayley, "and on the verge of a monumental discovery."

  They both chuckled as Revi blushed.

  "All right you two, that's more than enough fun at my expense," said the mage.

  * * *

  They rose early, the crisp morning air showing their breath as they moved.

  "Are you sure it's spring?" asked the mage.

  "This is nothing," responded Hayley. "I remember having an especially cold day up near Mattingly. I woke up to find myself covered in a thin layer of snow."

  "What did you do?"

  "I moved around a lot to warm up. Don't worry, by the time we make the mine, you'll be sweating heavily."

  "All ready?" called out Kraloch.

  "Yes," said Revi, "let us continue this journey of exploration."

  They made their way north, retracing their steps to the pathway that led to the mines. Soon, they were heading eastward, the road clearly visible beneath the cliffs they now traversed.

  "I hear noises," cautioned the ranger.

  "Halt a moment," said Revi, "and I'll send Shellbreaker ahead to get the lay of the land."

  He sat down, tracing runes in front of him with his eyes closed.

  "Why does he sit?" asked the Orc.

  "So he doesn't fall," explained Hayley. "He often moves about as he's looking through his familiar's eyes."

  "A wise precaution. Do you see anything, Master Bloom?"

  "Yes," he responded, "a large cut into the hills, more like a pit. And there are lots of people there."

  "Do you see any guards?" pressed the ranger.

  "Not as many as I expected. They seem to be mainly confined to the outer perimeter."

  "Likely to prevent escape," said Hayley.

  "I agree," continued the mage. "I would estimate there to be somewhere in the range of two hundred or so people working the mines. They look like slave labour."

  "Prisoners, more likely," countered the ranger.

  "I think you're right. I'm having Shellbreaker circle around to the roadway again. I want a better look at the entrance to the mine."

  Hayley and Kraloch watched Revi as he bobbed his head, simulating the bird's movement. The mage suddenly sat up straight, letting out a cry, and then fell backward, to lie on the ground.

  "What happened?" yelled Hayley in alarm.

  Revi mumbled something and then sat up, shaking his head and cradling his left arm. "Someone shot at Shellbreaker, clipping his wing."

  "Is he safe?" asked the Orc.

  "He is now, but that was a close call. I think we'd best keep our distance."

  "Agreed," said Hayley. "You had me scared there, for a moment."

  "I'll be fine," the mage responded, "but my arm is sore from sympathetic pain."

  "What's that?" asked Hayley.

  Kraloch answered, "When bonded to an animal, any pain felt by the familiar will be shared with the mage."

  The ranger's face wore a look of concern, "Does it still hurt?"

  Revi stood, rubbing his arm. "I'll be fine. Once Shellbreaker returns I can heal him."

  "Can't you heal your own arm?" she asked.

  "It doesn't work that way. It's my familiar that's wounded, I'm just feeling his pain."

  "We should get out of here," responded the Orc. "You have a good idea of the layout of the mine. I suggest we return to camp and prepare to leave."

  "Agreed," said the mage. "Shellbreaker will rendezvous with us there."

  * * *

  Sometime later they huddled around what was left of their camp. Shellbreaker sat on Revi's shoulder, his wound healed, but still weak from his encounter. All their belongings had been packed up, ready to go, and now only the glowing embers of the fire remained.

  "What's the plan?" asked Kraloch.

  "We move south, out of the hills, and meet up with the army," suggested Revi.

  "I have a better idea," interrupted the ranger.

  "Let's hear it," said the Orc.

  "I propose that I remain here with half the Orcs," she replied. "Revi, you and a suitable escort will make your way south to locate the army. Once they come within range of Redridge and are preparing to attack, you send Shellbreaker to me, here."

  "To what end?" asked the mage.

  "I intend to disrupt the enemy from the rear. A few arrow shots here and there will keep them hopping. They'll either have to abandon the pit, or reinforce it to keep order."

  "A good idea, though I'm loathe to part with you. Couldn't I stay?" he asked.

  "No," she admitted, "much as I would like that, you have to get word to the general. The timing here will be important. If I create a disturbance too soon, they'll simply suppress it and if I'm too late...well, then it will all be for nothing."

  "I'll likely be gone for a week, maybe more," he said.

  "I'll be fine. I'm a ranger, remember?"

  "Yes," agreed Kraloch, "and she has a fine group of hunters with her."

  "Very well," the mage acquiesced, "we'll carry on as you've suggested." He rose, stretching his arms as he did so. "I'll see you in a week, hopefully no more."

  Hayley stood, "Hey now, you're not going just yet. I want a kiss before you go, as a good luck charm."

  Revi stepped around the fire, kissing her gently.

  "What about me," asked Kraloch, "don't I get a kiss for luck?"

  Revi looked at him in disbelief, "Why would I do that?"

  "I thought it was a custom," the Orc responded. "Your race has such strange behaviours."

  Hayley laughed.

  "What's so funny?" asked Kraloch.

  "I was just enjoying the look on Revi's face," she replied.

  Eighteen

  The Outing

  Spring 962 MC

  Aldwin gazed at the distant walls of Tewsbury. "It looks quite formidable," he said.

  "And so it is," added Sir Heward, "but we're not assaulting the city. You'll notice the gates are still open."

  "I'm surprised," admitted the young smith. "I would have thought they'd be locked up inside."

  "Why would you think that?" asked Albreda.

  "Aren't they at war?" he asked.

  "In their minds, the war is a long way from here," she explained.

  "Yes," agreed Heward, "and they won't expect an attack from Bodden, we haven't the troops."

  "And yet," queried Aldwin, "isn't that exactly what we're going to do, offer battle?"

  "Not yet," replied the knight, "you two still have to get inside and poke about. We need to know what kind of troops they have and how many."

  "I wish you were going with us," remarked Aldwin. "I'd feel a lot safer with your axe nearby."

  Heward barked out a laugh, but a stern look from th
e mage stopped his merriment.

  "Sir Heward cannot accompany us," she said. "The danger of him being recognized is too high. Now come, it's time we dismounted."

  "We're not taking our horses?" Aldwin asked.

  "No," she replied, "they would complicate things. If we need to get out of the city, we may have to drop from the wall, and we can't do that with horses."

  Aldwin's gaze swept the distant defences, "Surely the wall is too high. If we jumped from there, we'd probably kill ourselves."

  "You forget my magic," she said calmly. "I can conjure vines to help us climb down. Now, if you're ready, we'll make our approach."

  "Very well," he said, dropping to the ground and handing off his reins to Sir Heward.

  "I'll be right here when you return," promised the knight. "Be careful in there."

  "Of course," said Albreda, "your concern is comforting but unnecessary. We shall be fine. Come along, Aldwin, it's time for us to enter Tewsbury.

  They walked out from their concealment in the woods to take up the road. In the distance, they observed carts and wagons hauling things into the city.

  "It looks quite busy for early spring," he remarked.

  "Yes," agreed Albreda, "likely Valmar has called on all the farmers to bring their remaining food stocks to the city to feed his troops. He must be getting ready to march."

  "To Bodden?"

  "Likely, but he might have decided to pacify the north first. That would mean taking Wickfield and Mattingly. We shall have to be on the lookout for information. You remember the plan?"

  "Of course," he responded, "I'm not a complete idiot. All I have to do is enter a tavern or two and listen to what people are saying."

  "Yes, but try to avoid getting into any conversations. We don't want the soldiers knowing that we're strangers."

  "It's not as if I'd tell them anything," he replied.

  "True, Aldwin, but neither of us knows the town very well. People that live here will know the locals and such. A simple slip up could ruin our chances of discovering what we need."

  "I'll keep that in mind," he promised.

  * * *

  The gate to the city proved remarkably easy to penetrate. The bored guards looked on with disinterest as they walked in, caring little to interrogate newcomers. Past the gatehouse they went, until the cobblestone streets of Tewsbury lay beneath their feet. Here Albreda halted, grabbing Aldwin's arm as she did so.

  "This is where we'll split up," she announced. "You go and find a tavern where soldiers hang out, and I'll see what I can discover at the stables."

  "Which tavern?” he asked. "This city must have many."

  In response, Albreda simply pointed upward. Aldwin looked to see a falcon flying overhead, and then it dawned on him. "You have a familiar," he said.

  "Kerwin is not a familiar," she said, "just a friend of mine. I’ll call him down to me and get the lay of the land, but let us move into an alley first, I don’t want to draw attention.”

  She guided him between the buildings, then gazed skyward. The bird of prey sailed down, landing lightly on her outstretched arm. Pressing her forehead to the bird's, she went motionless while Aldwin looked about nervously. A moment later, the bird flew off and Albreda opened her eyes.

  "There's a tavern just up the street called 'The Eagle and Dove'. You'll find soldiers there, though at this time of the day there shouldn't be too many. You have the coins the baron gave you?"

  Aldwin tapped the pouch that hung from his belt, "Yes, right here."

  "Good," said Albreda, "go and buy some drinks and keep your ears open. I'll be just down the street where the knights keep their horses. I'll meet you back at the tavern shortly."

  "Very well," he said, heading toward the sound of laughter.

  "Oh, and Aldwin?" she called out.

  He halted, turning to look at her, "Yes?"

  "For goodness sakes, be careful, I'd hate to have to explain your death to Beverly."

  "Don't worry," he called back, "I'll behave myself."

  She watched him enter the tavern, a small knot forming in her stomach. Perhaps she would have been better off to come here alone, she thought, but then quickly dismissed the idea. Aldwin was a grown man and could look after himself.

  She continued down the street until she found what she was looking for; a small pasture, attached to the stables. Leaning on the fence, she looked about as a group of knights trotted their mounts back and forth on the grassy turf.

  There were three of them, all told, but they soon grew bored with the exercise and brought their horses to a halt.

  "Manson," called out one of them, "come and take the horses, man, we need a drink."

  The aforementioned squire ran forward, taking the reins as the men dismounted. The knights took almost no notice of the youth, simply tossing the reins and then walking off with not so much as a simple thank you.

  Manson struggled to hold onto them all, calling for a stable boy to help.

  "Can I be of assistance?" Albreda called out.

  "Pardon?" replied the man.

  "I have some experience with horses," she replied, coming closer. "It looks like you're a little short-handed."

  He glanced back at the stable, but no one was forthcoming. "Very well," he said, surrendering a pair of reins.

  She took the leather straps, placing her hand on one of the horse's foreheads to give it a pat. "Magnificent beasts," she praised.

  "Yes," Manson replied with pride, "they're Mercerian Chargers, the finest breed in the Three Kingdoms."

  "Indeed," said Albreda, "and I'd wager quite intelligent, for horses."

  The handler looked at her with a confused look. "Intelligent? Why would you say that?"

  Albreda was quick to respond, "Well, they learn things quickly, do they not?"

  "You obviously know nothing of horseflesh," he said. "These are just dumb beasts. It's the riders that train them that make the difference."

  Albreda was about to object but thought better of it. "I take it the knights are expert horsemen, then?"

  "There are none finer," said Manson with pride. "The Knights of the Sword are undefeated in battle, the finest warriors in the land."

  "Undefeated?" she asked in surprise.

  "Of course," he replied.

  She was about to correct him but decided to let him have his moment, for he was likely ignorant of the events that had taken place at Colbridge. He led her into the stables, a large structure with many stalls.

  "You have a lot of mounts here," she said, "doubtless a king's ransom in horseflesh."

  "Yes," he beamed. "We have two companies of knights, more than a hundred to be exact."

  "More than enough to deal with the rebels," she added.

  "Of course," he agreed, "not to mention all the foot troops. When the marshal-general finally marches on Bodden, he'll put an end to this nonsense."

  "Do you mind if I look about?” she asked. "I've always loved horses.”

  "Of course," Manson replied. "Shall I show you around?"

  "That's nice of you to offer, but I don't want to intrude," she said. "I'll just look them over and then come and find you. I'd be interested in your thoughts."

  "Very well," the squire replied. "You'll find me in that office down yonder. Now, I must be off to chase down that young stable boy and give him a good thrashing for not doing his job."

  He left her, rushing off on his search. Albreda turned her attention to the horses.

  * * *

  Aldwin sat, nursing his ale. Nearby, a group of four knights were drinking deeply of their tankards. Their swords looked expensive, and the young smith wondered who had forged such weapons.

  "Like what you see?" called out one of them, a large fellow with a bushy black beard.

  Startled out of his reverie, Aldwin managed to stutter, "What?"

  The knight drew his sword, laying it on the table before him. "It's the finest Wincaster steel," he declared. "Come and have a look."

  Al
dwin looked across the room, taken aback by the sudden interest. He stood up, walked over to the group and stopped at their table. "It's a fine blade," he said, "though I wonder why the crossguard is so plain."

  "Hah!" exclaimed a fellow knight, this one with closely cropped red hair. "I told you so, Sir Galway. You should pay more attention to such things."

  "Shut up, Balfour," the bearded man replied, then turned his attention back to Aldwin. "How do you know such things?" he asked.

  "I've always admired weapon work," he replied.

  "You've the look of a fighter to you," said Balfour. "Ever been a soldier?"

  "No," admitted the smith, struggling to decide how to talk his way out of things.

  "He looks strong enough," offered a blond man, "perhaps we should recruit him. Ever handled a horse?"

  "I can ride if that's what you mean," offered Aldwin, "but I'm a commoner."

  "We're not suggesting you be a knight," said Sir Galway, "only a noble can be that."

  "I thought ordinary folk could be knighted," said Aldwin.

  "He's got you there, Galway," offered Sir Balfour.

  "Don't be absurd," said his companion. "Yes, in a few rare cases someone can be knighted on the battlefield, but they seldom make good knights."

  "What makes a good knight," interrupted Aldwin, "if I may be so bold as to ask?"

  "A good knight is noble born," began Galway, warming to the task, "an expert horseman and lethal with a sword."

  "What about an axe?" interjected Aldwin.

  "An axe?" asked the knight.

  "Shouldn't a knight be able to use a variety of weapons?"

  "Why? Do you think a sword wouldn't be enough?"

  "I'd just heard that knights could use all sorts of weapons."

  "He's got you again," uttered Sir Balfour.

  "Not at all," replied his companion, now growing irate. "While it's true that some knights use axes, far more use the sword; it's the very symbol of our order."

  "What about women?" pressed Aldwin, unable to hold his tongue. Perhaps he had sipped too much of his ale, but he found himself unable to stop.

  "What about them?" uttered Galway. "Are you trying to suggest that a woman could be a knight? Preposterous."