Nemond Thand stood in the centre of the room clad in armour and chain-mail. A maille gorget hung round his neck; his long blond hair swept down his back in a single tightly bound braid that reached his splinted leather covered buttocks; Ranell reckoned that hairstyle was a dangerous fashion to flaunt on the battlefield. Under his arm he carried a silver helm chased with gold. His battle-armour distracted attention from his scarred cheek and unbalanced eyes.
“Ah, General Accantey, welcome!” Thand said, pallid lips curving. “You’ve met General Luascar, I see.” His honey-coloured eyes glinted, fully alive now; a far cry from the haunted look that had clouded his visage earlier. “A resourceful man, indeed.”
The generals bowed while Ranell stared.
Behind Thand stood his wife Tantian, surprisingly also garbed in armour, her cuirass fashioned for a woman. And with her was Sister Illasa, now wearing a quilted leather surcoat that draped to her feet.
“The armour – where…?”
Tantian smiled most becomingly. “Your aide Aeleg discovered it in one of the storerooms. It’s a good fit, is it not?”
“Yes, splendid.”
When the generals explained the proposed tactics, Thand’s bronzed complexion paled. His voice took on a quavering lilt. “Is it wise to expose me before we have taken the crown?”
“It’s essential, my lord,” said Accantey. “If the men are to follow you into battle and put you on the throne, they will do so more readily when you lead them. That has always been Saurosen’s mistake; he’s a good swordsman but a poor judge of his people.”
Thand’s manicured fingers stroked his receding chin. He eyed Tantian with a pleading look. She didn’t respond. He touched the breastplate, the maille. “So be it. I want the people to want me with all their heart.”
Tantian nodded, eyes glistening, and turned her head away.
“Very good, my lord,” said Luascar. “Let us get ready to rejoin the toumens outside the city. Then we can retake all the sectors in the New and Second cities and finally break through to the Old City!”
“What about Sister Illasa?” Tantian queried.
“The witch stays here,” General Luascar said, giving the Sardan a disapproving glare.
***
Lornwater
Watchman Welde and Ranell were discussing the state of the city when two armed contingents approached across Marron Square. The inn’s sentries uttered a warning, but Welde Dep interrupted, “Stay, these are men-at-arms from the imprisoned noblemen!”
“So they are!” Ranell exclaimed. He recognised the sigils of Ban-so, Pelnoo and Qued. “You come to join us?” he called to the swarthy bearded warrior at the head.
“Aye!” The bearded soldier glared at the watchman. “Our lords expressly told us to take up arms when we saw fit, even if they were apprehended.”
“And now that Prince Haltese is dead, you see fit?”
“We – and our lords – support the house of Nemond Thand.”
“Your nobles were arrested before they could be charged with a greater offence of treason,” Welde Dep said. “The intention was to nip in the bud any revolt. That reason is now academic.”
“Whose side are you on, watchman?” demanded the bearded soldier.
“Lornwater’s.” Welde Dep turned to Ranell. “These men-at-arms are a useful addition to your faction. But I would ask that a number of them be used to support the watchmen in quelling the looting and rape. Accomplished crossbow-men would be of value as well, to slay any scavenging wild dogs; many are now rabid, feasting on corpses.”
“What say you to that, bearded one?” Ranell asked.
“For Lornwater’s sake, we will attempt to restore a semblance of peace in the chaos. And we can deal with rabid dogs with ease. We would also wish to fight by your side, innman, when the time comes.”
“Thank you. You will get your wish.”
***
General Accantey leading, Thand and Tantian flanked by armoured warriors, they rode along the Long Causeway. A commander announced, “The new heir to the throne is leaving to rejoin the first toumen, his toumen! He will return with a force sufficient to finally overthrow the tyrant Saurosen!” This was repeated as they went. There was little concern that the cities were being deserted by the troops, as this contingent only comprised a hundred men; the remainder, Accaney left behind to support the rebel faction.
Street people cheered, seemingly pleased to hear nobles and other powerful men condemning the king as a tyrant.
“We support you, Thand!”
Luascar was moved by their sentiment. He’d never heard anyone using Saurosen’s chosen name, yet many in the throng shouted Nemond Thand’s.
Finally, with the blessing of the majority of the people, their troup exited the New City’s varteron gate.
***
Oquar II forest
In a short while they penetrated the forest; the road was wide enough to accommodate three riders abreast; the trees were dense on both sides, and huge boughs spanned above the road too, blotting out most daylight.
Accantey had deployed plenty of scouts and shadow-men to raise the alert if any men of the fourth toumen were sighted – though he had to admit that was a near impossibility: if the men of the fourth didn’t want to be seen, then they became invisible.
Dusk cloaked the shadow treescape in sinister shades of black, green and grey. This was the worst time, but they had no choice; they needed to get far enough away to meet up with the first toumen. The troop trod with care, ghostly silent, the hoofs of their horses muffled. No talking was allowed. Weapons were draped in capes and all unnecessary accoutrements hidden in saddle-bags.
Then Accantey was disconcerted to hear a loud rattling of armour and a moan that sounded like, “It’s not the Underpeople. Beware the Overpeople!” He swung in his saddle, whispered harshly, “Who is that fool?”
Tantian edged her horse alongside his. “It is my husband.” She peered behind her. Thand shuddered in the saddle, his shoulders hunched. “He has suffered another relapse.”
Accantey scanned the nearby soldiery. None seemed too concerned yet. Perhaps they assumed Nemond Thand had slept in the saddle and had a dream. If any gave weight to dreams, none commented now. He leaned over, whispered in her ear. “If our men discover that your husband ails, my lady, their resolve might unravel.”
“Yes, I realise that, General. I can cover it up, I think.”
“Make sure you do, or we may all be lost.”
She nodded and expertly backed her horse to the side of her husband’s. Tenderly, she reached across the space between them, stroked the scarred side of Thand’s face.
Not long after, a cluster of eight dark shapes descended from the trees on ropes.
Accantey swore. Men of the fourth toumen!
Caught by surprise, many horsemen of the Nemond contingent were slain.
Accantey organised a circle of protection three men deep around Nemond Thand and his wife, and then deployed men to beat back the attack from all sides.
Within the circle, Tantian had dismounted and helped Thand off his horse. “Stay with the horses,” she told him gently but forcefully. Turning from him, she withdrew her long-sword and shouted in a commanding tone, “Crossbow-men, to me!”
Seven ran to her, slightly bemused. “My lady?” said one.
“Load your bolts and lie on your backs. Scan the treetops!”
“On our backs, my lady?”
“They’ll attempt to drop into this circle from above. Be ready!”
“Aye, my lady!”
In the blink of an eye the crossbow-men were indeed ready. Leaves rustled in the canopy above their defended circle. In the instant that five soldiers of the fourth emerged to slide down ropes, the quarells swiftly impaled them. The corpses toppled amidst their group, accompanied by a cheer.
“Reload quickly!” Tantian ordered. “The rest of you, stay alert!”
Accantey and his men defeated the attack from the soldiers of the
fourth. He entered the defensive circle and strode towards Tantian. “Well done, my lady!”
“Thank you, General.” She pointed her sword at the corpses that littered the ground. “This must have been a small lookout party, not a sizeable force.”
“I agree.” His anxious eyes scanned the forest on both sides as well as the overarching treetops. “I wonder what became of our scouts and shadow-men…”
“The fourth are shadows of shadows, General. They probably didn’t stand a chance.”
“It’s going to be a long night, my lady.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
OCCULT
“Cast a cold eye
On life, on death.
Bridansor pass by!”
- Where, a Tear by Laan Gib (1830-1998AC)
Third Sabin of Darous
At dawn, as the dew dripped from the greenery and bird-life awoke, chirping and singing, the second attack by the soldiers of the fourth toumen was concerted, first loosing arrows from concealment. About twenty men of the defensive circle were slain before shields could be deployed. Then the soldiers emerged from the trees, at each side and from above.
Crossbow-men killed seven who attempted to drop amongst them but there were more. They had no time to reload and used their crossbows as clubs or resorted to swords to defend Tantian. Not that she required protection; she proved to be an accomplished swordswoman, parrying, feinting, stabbing, and drawing blood. She fought off a lithe warrior who wielded a shortsword, while her husband attempted to calm their horses behind her. Finally, she found an opening in the man’s guard and sliced into the man’s neck, severing tendons, an artery and collar-bone.
Blood and gore spread underfoot and their horses whinnied in distress at the scent of it. Perhaps because the men of the fourth toumen relied on their stealth, many proved inadequate in open combat.
When the sun was up, slanting in narrow bands of light through the foliage, a trumpet sounded to the varteron and riders of the eleventh toumen broached the forest and immediately put this contingent of the fourth to flight.
***
Commander Uldern Rubon rode forward, and then halted in front of General Accantey. He dismounted, saluted. “General, this is the remainder of the eleventh toumen, as instructed by General Luascar, ready to serve Nemond Thand.”
Tantian stepped out, leading the horse her husband rode. “Well met, Commander Uldern!”
Uldern bowed graciously. “Glad to be of service, my lady, my lord.”
Straightening in the saddle, Thand said, “Well, gentlemen, now that I have a powerful and loyal force at my back, let us move on to Lornwater and avenge the death of Prince Haltese!”
Accantey glanced at Thand then raised an eyebrow at Tantian.
She fleetingly showed him a phial of purple liquid.
“To Lornwater!” Thand shouted.
“Avenge Haltese!” echoed their men.
***
Third Dekin of Darous
New City, Lornwater
Thand’s return to the New City met with no obstacle from either the fourth toumen in the forest or any stray troops in the varteron sectors. General Accantey stayed with five hundred of his first toumen at the the varteron gate, “as insurance”.
Men and women lined the Long Causeway, a good many of them admiring the brave wife Tantian by Thand’s side, her valour evinced by the bloodstained armour.
***
The royal palace, Old City, Lornwater
Nostor Vata closed her third eye and shuddered. Her complexion slowly lost its ruddy hue, becoming pale again. The eye sank into the slit above the bridge of her nose. She opened her piercing blue-grey eyes and vaguely fondled the curved knife at her belt. “The innman Ranell is plotting another attack on the Old City.”
“But,” Saurosen remonstrated, “we have retaken the Second City, and have control of the dunsaron sectors of the First City!”
“That may be so, sire, but he might be successful this time with Nemond Thand’s toumen–”
“Nemond Thand! How in the gods’ name did he escape, eh?”
“I detected a trace of glamour, sire. It was well accomplished by a talented Sardan.”
“The innman mustn’t be successful, Nostor Vata! Make sure he isn’t. Can’t you harm him with your damned Sardan magic?
She bowed her head briefly then her eyes speared his. “I will try, but I won’t be of any use to you while I make the attempt.”
***
Third Sidin of Darous
Red Tellar Inn, New City, Lornwater
“It is good to have you back – and with so many troops!” General Luascar said, addressing Nemond Thand at the strategy table.
“I appreciate you putting faith in me, General. It cannot have been easy, knowing my liabilities…”
The general glanced briefly at Tantian. “By all accounts, your wife has advised me that your ‘liabilities’ do not threaten the realm. My full toumen is now at your command.”
Ranell leaned forward, said, “General Luascar, I’d like to press–”
Abruptly, he stopped speaking, his mouth very dry, while a stinging sensation behind his eyes inflicted excruciating pain.
He rubbed his eyes, but the pain only became worse. His brow furrowed and he gasped for air, a burning smell insinuating through his nostrils. His hands trembling, he stood, but was incapable of walking.
Sister Illasa rushed up. “Keep back, all of you!”
“What’s the matter?” asked Tantian.
“It’s an occult attack. Doubtless by Saurosen’s witch, Nostor Vata!” She reached up to Ranell’s face, placed the flat of her hands on either side of his head and intoned an esoteric ancient chant, all the while tapping his temple with the sixth finger on her right hand.
Very slowly, Ranell’s anguished face softened and the hurt left his features. He opened his eyes. “I… I feel so weak, my knees…”
“Sit, rest,” Sister Illasa told him, and then gestured to Jan-re Osa. “Tend to him. He must have rest, time to recover.”
Jan-re Osa obliged, helping Ranell to his feet.
“Excuse me,” he managed. “Thank you, Sister…”
To one side, Epal Danorr and Lorar watched but neither commented; yet Lorar’s face gave away her feelings of concern for Ranell – or was it jealousy of Jan-re Osa?
***
The royal palace, Old City, Lornwater
Alone in her special room, Nostor Vata jerked backwards in her chair, almost toppled outside the pentagram painted on the floor.
The brownish lentigo on her forehead above the bridge of her nose throbbed painfully. She raised her hands to ward off the invisible attack, but in vain.
Mustering her mystical charms, she recited a mantra of resistance.
Agonisingly slowly, the tendrils that snaked into her mind slackened and finally fell away.
She gave a thankful sigh. She was free of the incursion.
This was the work of that Illasa witch!
***
Third Dloin of Darous
Red Tellar Inn, New City, Lornwater
The old water gild worker Vamir Wei stood at the foot of the bed, alongside Aeleg and Jan-re Osa. Seated at the head of the bed was Sister Illasa.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I have vital information you could use,” Vamir Wei said.
Easing himself up on his bed, Ranell forced a smile. “What is it?” he asked, his mind still whoozy with the after-effects of the psychic attack.
Cap nervously in hand, Vamir Wei said, “I think your – er, our – people could break into the Old City through the water system at sector twelve.”
“Are you sure?”
“Aye, sir. The underground teen runs beneath the city, and has done so since before the creation of Lornwater. It feeds the water system, running diagonally, and debouches into Joma Taal.”
Ranell let out a laugh, but didn’t allow it to linger as the activity hurt his head. “All these damnable tunnels – the Old City
isn’t a fortress, it’s a sieve!”
Concern in her eyes, Osa moved closer. “Won’t the system be guarded?”
Vamir Wei shook his head. “My gild is not sympathetic to the king. There’ll be no obstruction.”
“But,” interjected Aeleg, “sector twelve’s presently held by Saurosen’s troops.”
Ranell swung his legs out of the bed. “That is a problem, granted.” He levelled his eyes on Vamir Wei. “Can we get to sector twelve underground from sector twenty-three?”
“I believe so. There are feeders for the canals.”
“In which case, this is an idea worth pursuing. I’ll lead the team.”
“No, Ranell,” Osa pleaded. “You haven’t recovered from that attack.” She cast a glance at Sister Illasa.
“Ranell,” the Sardan said, “I advise you to rest for another day, at least. The psychic attack from Nostor was powerful. Fortunately, she won’t be able to attempt the same again for several days – by which time it may be a moot issue.”
“I must lead my men.”
Osa touched his arm gently. “You’re needed here to plan the rest of the attack and lead the rebels. If this venture fails, we’ve lost you.”
“Aye, Osa has a point, Master Ranell,” Aeleg said. “You know, the art of good leadership is delegation. I will volunteer to go in your stead.”
Ranell stood, shaking his head. And promptly sat on the bed again. “You’re right, Sister Illasa; my legs are too weak.” He signed to Aeleg. “Take ten men. Vamir Wei will go with you.” He eyed Osa: “You win. I’ll stay here, though I dearly want to lead them.” He reached for Aeleg’s hand. “Don’t take any risks, old friend. If for any reason this access is unworkable, come back and we’ll try one of the other underground routes into the Old City.”
***
Third Sufin of Darous
New City, Lornwater
There was no let-up in the fighting at the barricades erected between sectors ten and twenty-three, and those established between eighteen and seventeen. The assault on the varteron gate of the Second City was postponed in the hope that assault by tunnel might create surprise and save lives.
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