The Broken Kingdom

by Andrew G. Wood

  “It appears that Lord Elthan has managed to persuade some of the nobles around this area to rally to his cause,” Lord Dalby said taking over what Luca realised was going to be some kind of military briefing.

  Though feeling a little angry that these men, all put in a position of importance and wealth by his father’s family at some point in time were now lining up to fight against him, Luca forced himself to listen. Knowing what he was being told was important and that now was not the time for childish antics, he focused on what was being said.

  “We have the numbers to repel them.” Lord Dalby said, apparently being the one tasked with the explanations. “Plus I have another ship full of supplies and soldiers due in by the morning.”

  Luca nodded his head slowly but did not take his eyes off the map as he stared down at those towns that were starting an uprising against him.

  “Lord Needham of Falsham is kindly keeping us updated as to their numbers and which direction they will be heading.”

  Again Luca nodded, thankful that at least one of the lords in this area was still loyal to him.

  Thinking he should be saying or asking something, Luca thought carefully before speaking.

  “Do we know how many we will be up against?”

  Again it was Lord Dalby that answered, “Apparently Lord Elthan has a large contingent of his own men moving towards Nackleton. So when he’s joined up with the others, we reckon about three to four hundred men.”

  While not a huge army, Luca knew it was probably enough to defeat those at Scarwood if they were standing alone. However, they were not. Lord Dalby, his uncle, had immediately rallied to his cause as well, and between them could probably muster a sufficient force to repel what was coming their way.

  However, something dawned upon Luca, a strange thought that he would not have considered not so long ago.

  “I assume they are heading this way because of me,” Luca said taking his eyes off the map for the first time and looking at the two men directly.

  “I can’t have you both risk your lives and those of all those men just for me,” Luca added.

  Unsure as to why he had said it, Luca actually felt better that he had. It was true. Why should hundreds of innocent men he had never met before, die in a battle just to save his life?

  However, rather than be shocked it seemed Lord Oakley and Lord Dalby both now looked at him with a new respect and admiration.

  “Your mother was humble as well,” Lord Dalby replied, his voice breaking just a little with emotion.

  “It is, for this reason, we are willing to put our lives on the line,” Lord Oakley added. “Only a real king would consider saying such a thing.”

  It seemed neither man had listened to a word he had just said, even though both had given a reply.

  “Perhaps it would be better for all concerned if I just…”

  Lord Oakley cut him off mid-sentence.

  “Not going to happen, Sire. We and others are willing to fight. The throne is yours by right, and I for one will not sit idly by and let someone else take it from you!”

  Lord Dalby instantly mirrored those exact same thoughts, before adding that most of the other major nobles had already declared for Luca.

  “The Northern Marches, Cardell, Alborogh and the Eastern Range have already given us their support for you, Sire. The others are just a matter of time. Lord Elthan has fewer allies than he had hoped for,” Lord Dalby explained.

  “Already Lord Elthan’s grip is weakening. It is why he plans to attack here directly.”

  “He wants to kill me and remove me from the equation?” Luca asked, even though he already knew the answer.

  “I am afraid so, Yes, Sire.”

  Luca listened to how the two lords planned on repelling the attack, and although neither hoped it would be necessary, how Luca was to be moved via sea should things not go to plan.

  “Perhaps I should be with the men when they fight!” Luca suggested, having read many books, both factual and fictional about great battles and the men and women that had led them. In most, it seemed the one in charge led from the front, often charging into the fighting first to rally and inspire the men fighting for him.

  “I am capable of using a sword,” Luca said thinking back to the lessons he had been forced to endure as a younger boy.

  “That won’t be necessary, Sire. Placing you in danger would just be counterproductive to everything we want to achieve.

  We can not risk losing you, or Lord Elthan will get his way. You understand?”

  Luca nodded his head slowly. In a way, he was quite glad they hadn’t agreed to his somewhat foolhardy notion. As brave as it might have sounded, Luca knew deep down he was no fighter, and if truthful to himself, probably a bit of a coward.

  Luca left the office of Lord Oakley a somewhat worried and concerned young man. While he knew it was his right to be king, the idea of having so many men wage war to enable it to happen did not sit easily with him. A new, deeper set of feelings had seemingly been aroused within over the past few weeks. The old Luca, perhaps a little out of touch and thoughtless, maybe even a tad rude if he admitted it, was seemingly a thing of the past. A new, thoughtful, more mature minded person seemed to be taking its place.

  Chapter 18. Sounds of Battle.

  Just as Lord Dalby had promised, another of his ships had docked the previous day bringing in over a hundred and fifty more soldiers. Added to those already around Garley and those mustered up by Lord Oakley, they had amassed a sizable army. As a result, Garley was fast becoming very overcrowded, even though camps were set up outside the town to accommodate them. Inns and taverns in the town were apparently doing a brisk business, as were many of the local traders. However, with Lord Dalby also shipping in vast amounts of supplies it helped ensure those already living in Garley did not go short, and more importantly stop prices for basic essentials from soaring due to the increased demand.

  Another clear blue sky, with just a handful of wispy white clouds, suggested it was going to be another fine, warm day. Yet nobody in and around Garley was thinking about the weather, as the news that they had been waiting for finally arrived. Luca had been one of the first to be told, and as he watched from the stone steps, he knew how significant this day would turn out to be. Lord Elthan’s soldiers had apparently joined up with those lesser nobles from his own lands and were heading south towards Scarwood in a bid to kill him. Standing in their way, were over four hundred soldiers from these lands and those of his uncle’s from the Casillian Isle.

  However, rather than merely allow the enemy a free run straight to Garley, Lord Oakley and Lord Dalby had devised several plans in a bid to make sure no enemy soldier got near Garley, and as a result, a force of over two hundred, half of their combined force was heading out to meet them. The idea was not to meet them directly in battle but to catch them while on their travels with a series of hit and run raids against the columns of men. Lord Oakley might not have the resources other nobles had, but he knew his own land very well. Lord Elthan’s men would have to travel along narrow winding tracks that were flanked either side by dense forests and sharp inclines, ideal for making an ambush.

  “Are you okay?” Luca heard a voice say from somewhere behind him. He didn’t need to turn to know whose it was, but did so anyway and gave his cousin, Theo, a smile, albeit a forced one. In truth, Luca was still unsure about letting men die for him. Lord Oakley was leading this force and putting his own life on the line. A man, who up until a month or so ago, Luca had thought insignificant and had repeatedly mocked for being as such. Yet here he was, leading hundreds of men out to fight in Luca’s name. A man that could so easily have turned a blind eye to everything that had gone on during the murder of Luca’s parents, and existed as if nothing had happened. Perhaps it was Lord Oakley’s somewhat modest standing that gave him a better connection to the people. Maybe, Luca, the other royals and major nobles of Arandor were so detached in their own little world of supremacy?

  As i
f sensing his apprehension, Theo placed a calming hand on Luca’s shoulder.

  “Father says, Lord Oakley knows this land better than anybody. If anyone can stop the enemy reaching Garley, it is him.”

  Yet Luca was not so blind that he had not considered the fact that half of their force was remaining in the town, many of which had now taken up defensive positions along the outer walls. The gates were to be closed and sealed, with the only access in and out now via the dock, and even that was temporarily shut off. The gates that led down to the waters were not as large or substantial as those that barred the main entrance, but could withstand an enemy attack should it come from the sea, although it was deemed unlikely in this instance. However, despite that being so, a clear path needed to be kept to the ship that was harboured on the quayside, manned and provisioned for a hasty trip back to the Cassiallian Isle should things not go to plan. Should the unthinkable happen, Lord Dalby had sworn to stand beside Samuel in the defence of Garley, while the wives and children of the two families were shepherded to safety along with the prince.

  At the moment that was all irrelevant, and just a backup plan to the one Lord Oakley was overseeing. Riding his horse along the main path and away from the relative safety of his hometown, he already knew the exact position from which to attack the enemy. The advantage of having the smallest of the kingdom’s regions was that he knew the lay of the land extremely well. The roads and tracks that the enemy had decided to take were the best and quickest route straight through to Garley. However, by going this route the enemy would need to travel through an area of the scar that gave the area its name, and a place that Lord Oakley knew would see them open to attack.

  With nothing more than a slight breeze on their faces, Lord Oakley manoeuvred his men up on to the ledge that overlooked the main track. If his timing was correct, then he had about an hour or so to organise his ambush before the enemy rode through. However, while he doubted the enemy’s choice of route, he did not consider that they would be completely foolish and knew that within that next hour scouts would probably move ahead of the main force to check for signs of trouble. Not only did Lord Oakley want to surprise the enemy, but he also wanted to trap them in the half-mile stretch of the scar and rain arrows down upon them. With little time to waste, he ordered the horses to be moved away from the ledge and for a few trees to be cut down. Ensuring these were only taken from further back so as not to show signs that somebody had recently been there, the trunks were to be rolled down the slope when the time was right.

  Lord Oakley looked up at the sky in a bid to judge the time of day as he waited alongside his hundred or so archers up on the ledge. Keeping out of sight, hiding in the shadows of the trees he spotted two riders on horseback. Although looking rather nonchalant and uncaring as they rode, Lord Oakley was certain the two men were taking in every little detail of the surroundings. It would not take a genius to work out the area they were about to ride through was an ideal spot for an ambush. Lord Oakley just hoped they had made a good enough job of not disturbing any of the local area or left any tell-tale signs of recent activity.

  Having worked hard to camouflage themselves, his forces had even backtracked some way to cover the prints that their horses might have caused on their way there. With bated breath, Lord Oakley watched as one of the scouts stopped his horse and glanced right up towards him. Certain the man was looking directly at him Lord Oakley remained perfectly still, knowing that any movement would surely give away the fact someone was watching on from the shadows. His breathing may have slowed, but he could feel his heart pounding faster as each second passed by. Thankfully the scout’s attention appeared to be drawn to something else a little further on, but that was just a bird taking flight from the other side of the ledge.

  One of the scouts continued onwards, while the second turned slowly about and trotted his horse back the way they had come; assumingly to tell those that followed that it was safe for them to proceed. The lead scout would need to be dealt with, as Lord Oakley knew once away from the ledge he would undoubtedly spot the signs of recent activity. If that were the case, then he would surely hurry back to warn the others they were heading into a trap, something Lord Oakley could not allow. Thankfully, four of his men were already holding back further down the track for the scout’s arrival.

  Only a couple of minutes had passed by when the second scout returned into view, which Lord Oakley knew was a sign that the main party could not be far behind. The scout seemed somewhat on edge, not quite so relaxed as he had appeared when first coming into view as if he could sense something was wrong. Moving his horse slowly the man kept looking up to the trees along the ledge above him as if suspecting something was not right. Was it too quiet perhaps? Had Lord Oakley and his men done too much to make it look as if they weren’t there? Whatever the reason, the scout appeared more concerned the further up the path he rode. Needing to make a quick decision and risk everything Lord Oakley gave the slightest of signals to the two men beside him.

  Two arrows immediately soared down, both striking the scout with unnerving accuracy. One arrow thumped into the man’s back, the second piercing through his neck, causing him to slump into his saddle. The horse on which he was riding, unsurprisingly was spooked at the sudden attack, but thankfully bolted further down the track before the scout eventually keeled over and off his horse. The animal continued onwards out of sight, and Lord Oakley knew the men waiting at the end of the ledge would pick it up. However, he now had about two minutes before an entire army strolled into view and needed to remove the dead body from view.

  Without delay two of his men emerged from the treeline and slid down the ledge and slope onto the path some forty feet below them. Disturbing the soil as they went there was little time to cover tracks now. Lord Oakley watched nervously as his men grabbed an arm each and dragged the scout's dead body further up the track, running as fast as they could. Although leaving further marks on the ground that the front riders might see, it was a risk they now had to take. Plans rarely went as smoothly as they had been perceived, and it seemed that this particular one was no different. Glancing back and forth from one end of the track to the other, it was a race against time as his two men dragged the fallen body further around the slight bend in the road and finally out of view.

  No sooner had they gone from his sight when Lord Oakley spotted the first of the riders. Sitting upright on his horse, showing an uncaring almost arrogant posture, Lord Oakley knew exactly who the man was. Lord Merrington, a lesser nobleman from Brenthellin lands, a man Lord Oakley knew quite well, having had dealings with him before. Quite an intolerable, rude, although ambitious man, Lord Oakley was little surprised that Lord Merrington had seemingly taken this opportunity to make personal gains. No doubt he had been offered areas of Scarwood for his part as a reward, something Lord Oakley had no intention of letting happen.

  Even though killing another nobleman was probably only a few notches down from the regicide committed by Lord Elthan, Lord Oakley had no qualms about removing this particular man.

  “Just a little further,” he whispered to himself, trying to judge the best time to make their surprise attack.

  Lord Oakley waited, now impatient for the line of soldiers to hurry along so his trap could be sprung. Yet his wish was thwarted once more, when one of the soldiers riding up alongside Lord Merrington, appeared to see something out of the ordinary on the ground. Whatever he had spotted caused Lord Merrington to halt the entire line and look up to the ledge.

  “NOW!” Lord Oakley shouted as loud as he could. While only a fraction of the troops had made their way into the stretch of the path he was targeting, it would have to suffice. The trees they had felled were quickly carried to the front and tossed down the slope causing a blockage in the path going forward and the horses at the front to buck and turn, ensuring that their riders were kept busy as the first of the archers launched their arrows. As hundreds of white feathered shafts darted down from the treeline to the men strug
gling to turn around, the cries of the dying soon filled the air. As awful as it was to kill such a beautiful creature as a horse, they also, unfortunately, fell as the second and third volleys streamed downwards.

  Despite it all being over in a matter of just a few minutes it seemed as if everything was going in slow motion. Men crying out, horses stumbling, injured and dying like their riders as the rain of death poured down from above them. Only those at the rear of the lines had escaped the terror, and though over half of the force had probably managed to turn about and make good their escape, a sizeable chunk of the enemy army had been wiped out in the blink of an eye.

  “Lord Oakley,” the soldier repeated several times before getting an answer.

  “Do you wish us to pursue the enemy?”

  Lord Oakley merely gave a slight shake of his head, indicating that wouldn’t be necessary.

  “Take twenty men down and deal with the badly wounded men and horses.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” The Soldier replied, already turning to do as he was asked.

  “Oh…and see to it the horses are dealt with first,” Lord Oakley added hating the sight of seeing several of the animal writhing in pain.

  ‘Dealing with the badly injured’ only meant one thing and that was to put them out of their misery. The fact that Lord Oakley had ordered the horses to be silenced first showed his loathing for the men that had attacked his lands. However, he knew there were likely to be a few, both men and horses, that were not critically hurt and as much as he would have liked to finish all the enemy soldiers off, he felt it only right he give these men the proper treatment.