Sword of the Crown

by Paul J Bennett

  “That’s right; I must have forgotten. And tell me, Lord Fitzwilliam, how many battles have you been in?”

  “I’m afraid too many to count,” he smiled.

  “And how many of those did you win?”

  “Why…all of them, Your Highness.”

  “Oh yes,” she continued, “that’s right. How many battles have you been in, Marshal-General?”

  Her eyes bore into him, and Valmar felt his chest tighten. This was not going the way he had planned, and now he sought help, casting his eyes around the room in a panic, finally landing on the Earl of Shrewesdale who was busy staring daggers at the princess’s bodyguard. “Lord Shrewesdale,” he said, “is something wrong?”

  The earl tore his eyes from his target to look at Valmar, “Excuse me, Marshal-General, but I must take offense at the presence of this…this person.” He pointed at Dame Beverly Fitzwilliam. “This harlot is not fit to be in the company of the prince, and her presence offends all here.”

  The knight’s face reddened, and Valmar saw his chance to deflect the question of his battle experience. “I believe you’re right, my lord. But perhaps we should let the prince decide?” He turned to look at Prince Henry. The young man was about to drink from his glass, and he paused as all eyes fell on him.

  “I beg your pardon?” he simply said.

  “Your father's good friend, the earl, was saying that this knight is not welcome here. Would you agree?” He stared at Henry, knowing the young man would cave in; he was easily influenced. Valmar had taken great pains over the last few days to share the high regard in which the king held him, his hand-picked marshal-general of the army.

  “Yes, of course,” Henry agreed hastily, “I suppose it’s for the best, we don’t want to be distracted.”

  “She’s not going anywhere,” said Princess Anna, “she’s my bodyguard!”

  “You are young, Highness,” said Valmar, emboldened by his grip on her brother. “This tent is not the proper place for women.”

  He turned to face Henry in a dramatic fashion. This time he only raised his eyebrows.

  “Yes, very well, Anna, you’re not needed here, do as the marshal-general says.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Henry,” she bit back, “it’s a trap. The enemy is trying to lure us in. If we attack tomorrow we’ll play right into his hands, can’t you see?”

  “That's enough!” yelled Valmar. The room fell silent, and he saw the opportunity to remove another detractor. “Baron Fitzwilliam, would you be so kind as to escort the princess back to her encampment?”

  “I want a representative at the table,” she demanded.

  “I’d be more than willing to accept one, provided it’s not her,” Valmar said, pointing at Dame Beverly.

  The princess turned to someone standing behind her and told him to step forward. The red-headed knight slowly took out her sword and passed it to the princess hilt first.

  Valmar heard some gasps from the other nobles and moved forward to get a better view. She was speaking quietly, and then the man knelt. “I dub thee Knight of the Hound,” she said, “arise, Sir Arnim Caster.”

  Valmar looked on in disbelief. It was her prerogative to knight whom she pleased, but he was shocked by her choice. As it sank in, he began to laugh. Captain Arnim Caster, the man that Valmar had sent to guard her, the man who worked for him, was her choice to be her representative.

  The princess turned to him with a defiant look on her face. “Will that do?” she asked.

  “Oh yes,” he agreed, “that will do nicely.”

  * * *

  “The man is a complete idiot,” Anna fumed.

  “Agreed,” said Beverly, “but what do we do about it?”

  “We find proof it’s a trap.”

  “And how do we do that?”

  “Tell me, Beverly, what would you do if you were the Earl of Eastwood?”

  “I would high tail it back to Eastwood and make us siege the city.”

  “And under what circumstances would you stand and fight?”

  “I wouldn’t,” said Beverly, and then began to think, “unless I had reinforcements coming.”

  Anna smiled, “And to do the most damage, where would you have these extra troops arrive?”

  Beverly looked westward toward the Deerwood. “I would bring them through that; they’d appear in our rear for maximum effect.”

  “Precisely,” said Anna. “We need eyes in that wood with some idea of what kind of force we’re dealing with.”

  “With your permission, Highness, I’ll go,” said Beverly.

  The young girl looked at her champion, and Beverly saw indecision written across her face.

  “I’ll take Hayley,” Beverly said, “she can track. We’ll be back before morning. We’ll learn what’s out there.”

  Anna looked at Gerald, who nodded. “Very well,” she said at last, “but be careful, we don’t know what to expect.”

  Beverly looked to Hayley, who nodded her assent. They left the camp a few moments later with their gear.

  * * *

  They rode to the edge of the woods and dismounted. It was approaching midnight, and the full moon cast an eerie glow across the landscape. They entered on foot, the thick foliage clinging to their legs as they made their way through the dense underbrush.

  “I have a hard time believing an army could get through this,” said Beverly.

  “You’d be surprised what an experienced woodsman can do,” said Hayley. “They’ve probably got some guides leading them, and there’s bound to be trails nearby we don’t know about.”

  They moved on in silence, and within moments the dense canopy blocked out the moonlight. They waited for their eyes to adjust to the darkness before continuing. Tracking was impossible in the darkness, but an army meant people, and people make noise. If there were troops of any significant number in these woods, they were bound to hear them. They had paused for perhaps the seventh time when Beverly felt Hayley’s hand on her arm pulling her down. She strained to hear something, and could just make out talking in the distance.

  “Do you hear that?” Beverly whispered.

  “Yes, but it sounds odd, we need to get closer.”

  “What do you mean it sounds odd?”

  “I mean the voices sound like another language,” said Hayley, “I need to get closer to identify it.”

  Beverly wasn’t sure what this meant. Could it be Norlanders? Unlikely this far south, besides, they spoke the same language as Mercerians, though with an accent. No, this had to be something else.

  They crept forward slowly. She followed Hayley, who seemed to glide quietly through the trees. Beverly was sure she was making a tremendous racket, but when she halted, she heard no challenge. The voices were now clearer; low and guttural. She didn’t recognize the language and looked to Hayley, whose outline she could just barely discern in the darkness.

  “Orcs,” whispered Hayley. “They must have come out of the Artisan Hills.”

  “Why would Orcs help the earl?”

  “Coins, most likely. They’re not a rich people.”

  Beverly nodded in understanding, though she doubted Hayley could see her. She had never seen an Orc before, but she had heard of them. They were one of the Elder races, and they once had mighty cities scattered throughout the lands, but that was centuries ago. The race had devolved to the savage warriors that now lurked in the remote hills spread throughout the area.

  The two women sat in silence, listening to the sounds echoing through the forest. Beverly strained to see any movement in the gloom. Soon, dark shapes came toward them, and then she heard Hayley curse.

  “Damn, they’ve seen us. We’d better run for it.”

  The ranger turned to run, and Beverly drew her sword. “Get back to the camp and warn them. I’ll delay them as long as I can. Besides, I’ll never outrun them in the dark.”

  Hayley paused for just a moment, no doubt considering her options, but then Beverly heard her footfalls disappearing in
the distance as she crashed through the woods.

  A dark shape loomed in front of her, and she stabbed with her sword. The tip hit something soft, and she heard a grunt of pain. She was knocked sideways when a strike came out of the darkness; an axe scraping off of her upper arm. She crouched slightly, presenting a smaller target and swung a blow to her right. The blade passed through the thin air, but she heard an Orc jump back as she swung.

  She concentrated on her hearing, listening to the sounds about her, judging their movements. A sudden rush to the left and then a low growl had her stepping back and swinging where she had been standing. Her blade glanced off of an Orc who surged past her. Backing up slowly, she hoped she was moving toward the edge of the forest. Her foot snapped a twig, and there was a sudden rush towards her. She jumped to the side and swung her sword in an overhead blow, feeling it dig deep into flesh, almost losing it as the mighty bulk tore past her. She wrenched the blade free just in time to parry a blow. More Orcs approached; they were no longer bothering to remain quiet. A strange keening sound erupted as the Orcs let out a battle cry with others further away taking up the call. Beverly, for once, was glad of the darkness, for she knew it hid her fear.

  Orcs are bulkier than Humans, though not to a significant degree. It’s not that they were taller, the average Orc only stood about six feet in height, but they had much broader shoulders and a more substantial chest. This gave them more strength, and she doubted that even her armour could stop an overhead axe strike.

  She realized she was surrounded; the Orcs were all around her. Without a doubt, this was part of a bigger army. Her only job now was to hold them off long enough to allow Hayley to escape. She gripped her sword with new determination and prepared to die. A yell off to her left caught her attention, and then there was the sound of rushing feet. Orcs might be great warriors, but they are not subtle. She turned to what she thought was the edge of the wood and ran about twenty paces, rotating suddenly to her right. She ducked behind a tree, and she thought she saw a group of them rush past her. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? She gazed into the darkness and saw the outline of a tree. It was a vague outline, but she saw it, daybreak must be coming.

  Ever so slowly the forest took form around her as the early light of day began to penetrate the woods, and she realized it was later than she had thought. She cast her eyes about, looking for something that might give her an edge, but couldn't see anything of use. She remained still, pressed against the tree while about her she heard the Orcs crashing through the forest, searching for her. Hearing a loud shout to her right, she turned in time to see a group of three Orcs. One of them had seen her in the early morning light and had shouted his warning. Now the three of them descended on her position as they lifted their axes to strike her down.

  She waited as they closed, carefully judging their speed. The lead Orc raised his axe, and she struck out with her sword, stabbing him in the stomach, then quickly stepped back around the tree. The creature howled and clutched himself but the other two, far wiser than their colleague, moved around the tree, one to either side. She ducked in time to see an axe dig deeply into the trunk and then she struck with her sword, a side arc slashing towards his knee, but the Orc was fast and stepped back to avoid the blow. She heard the other one swinging at her from behind, and she dove to the side, trying to put some distance between her and the deadly blade. She rolled to her feet and was up in an instant, her sword held in front of her.

  The sound of the fight brought others, and soon all about her, she heard the crash of branches as Orcs rushed to her position. This was it, the final battle. All her life she had trained for combat, and now she put all her knowledge, all her expertise, to the test. She lunged forward, stabbing with the sword, the Orc backing up with the ferocity of the attack. She wheeled on a second Orc and saw the surprised look on his face as she dug the blade into his leg. The creature roared in pain and tried to step back, but collapsed on his injured limb. She ignored him and struck again at her first attacker, leaving cuts on his chest as he back-pedalled in an attempt to avoid her blows. She quickly glanced about and saw a ring of Orcs starting to form around her and knew her fate was sealed. These Orcs would trap her, wear her down, and then finish her off if she didn’t do something soon. She saw a small gap in the ring and ran for it. An Orc moved to block her, and she leaped, striking him full in the chest with her knees. The large creature fell with a crash, and she bounded to her feet and ran, as fast as she could. She stopped only long enough to let out a loud whistle and then she turned to face her new pursuers.

  There were some loose sticks by her feet, and she used her toe to throw them at her first opponent. As the Orc instinctively raised his arm to shield his eyes, she swung her sword. The blade scraped along his forearm, and he let out a yell, staggering to the side. His companion rushed forward, bellowing, and struck with his axe, but she sidestepped to avoid the blow and then brought her blade down on the axe’s shaft, splintering it. The Orc drew it back up and swung it in a high arc, but the axe head flew off the handle to disappear amongst the trees.

  Beverly took another step backwards and prepared to fend off more blows. The Orcs were all coming for her, and she needed to buy more time. She lunged forward, causing the first Orcs to slow, but instead of attacking, she backed up again. The Orcs grew frustrated and yelled and screamed at her. Another Orc rushed forward, this time stabbing with a spear. She sidestepped the thrust and brought her blade down on his back as he ran by her. A blow struck her, but Aldwin’s backplate saved her. She staggered forward with the force of it, striking out wildly with her sword to keep them at bay.

  Again and again, they kept at her, swinging their axes and driving her backwards. She was getting tired, and as she stepped back, she tripped and fell, landing with a crash into the dead branches that lay scattered throughout the woods. An Orc stepped forward to deal the killing blow, but she rolled to the side and, hearing the crack as the axe sliced through the branches, quickly stood up.

  She stabbed again and again, for they were now pressing so close there was no room to swing her sword. Step, thrust, backstep, side thrust, over and over she repeated the moves, her continuous training saving her from having to think about her defence. She felt the energy leaving her and knew the end was close; backed up against a tree, she was surrounded. This was her final stand.

  The Orcs suddenly gave way, and she found herself with room to move. She felt the fog of fatigue and couldn’t quite make sense of it; then she saw her saviour. Lightning, her ever loyal steed, had heard her whistle and had come running. The Orcs had backed up at the sound of the approaching horse, and now it ran right up to her. She didn’t think twice but grabbed the saddle as he rode past, hanging on for dear life. They tore their way through the woods, snapping branches left and right, but she was safe, the sound of Orc curses dwindling in the distance.

  * * *

  Marshal-General Valmar took another sip of the excellent wine from his own vineyards. He held it to the light, the early morning sun making the glass sparkle. It looked to be an auspicious day. The army would crush the rebel earl, and he would travel back to Wincaster as the victorious leader. Perhaps he might even get that which he had so long coveted, a title. He imagined himself as a baron but then shook it off; his victory would surely make a higher title more appropriate. Perhaps the king might make him the new Earl of Eastwood?

  His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. He turned with irritation to see Princess Anna approaching with her entourage. “Ah, here it comes again,” he said under his breath. “Princess, what can I do for you?”

  “We are in grave danger, Marshal-General; there is another army in the woods behind us, we are surrounded and outnumbered.”

  “Nonsense,” said Valmar, “they’re just there to fool us. The real enemy is down there,” he pointed absently with his glass.

  Prince Henry came into view, and Valmar was about to say something when the princess stepped forwar
d suddenly, knocking the glass from his hand.

  “The Orcs are forming up outside the woods even as we speak. If we don’t do something soon, it’ll be the end of us.”

  “What’s this?” said Henry, “Orcs?”

  “Nothing that needs concern you, Your Highness,” Valmar said, trying to gain control of the situation. “It’s all looked after. Besides, who’s in charge here?”

  Henry looked from Valmar to Anna, and the marshal-general saw the prince’s jaw clenching.

  “He is the marshal-general, Anna,” he said, “Father trusts him.”

  Valmar smiled, his influence over the young prince almost complete. “There, you see? Your brother wants me in command.”

  He turned to smirk at the princess but suddenly felt light-headed. Before he knew it, he was letting out a rather large yawn and collapsed to the ground.

  * * *

  Anna turned to Revi, “Is it serious?” she asked.

  The mage bent down over Marshal-General Valmar, “I’m afraid it looks like the sleeping sickness, Your Highness, he might be out for some time.”

  “How long?”

  “At least four hours,” he said, and then added, in a lower voice, “even longer if I do a second casting.”

  Anna stifled her smile and turned to face her brother with a more serious demeanour, “I’m afraid the marshal-general is quite ill, Henry.”

  Henry started at the marshal-general with a blank look. “But he’s in charge of the army, who will give the orders?”

  “You’re the commander of the army, Henry, not Valmar. YOU will lead them.”

  “I’ve never led an army before, I’m not ready. This is all so sudden.”

  “Henry,” said Anna, “you have to take command, there’s no time for this.”

  The prince looked at his youngest sister, pleading in his eyes. “I can’t think. What can I do, Alfred died fighting the Earl. I have no battle experience, I can’t be the man responsible for losing the crown. Father would crucify me.