by Guy Antibes
The crowd went silent as the princess told them of this new information.
“Along the way, he used the Bloodstone to evade capture and lost his power, but regained his youth. He stands before you bound. Unca became Anchor, the leader of the Alliance. What should I do with him?”
“Kiss him!” came the first cry. Others began to cheer Anchor’s praises. “He seems a hero to me!” No one called for his death.
“I hear you and pardon Unca from his crime of permitting enemies into the castle.” More cheers rose up from the crowds. Sallia took a knife from her sleeve and pulled up Anchor’s arms. She cut his bonds herself and whispered in his ear, “What you did on purpose eclipses what you did in ignorance. I have faith in my people and I have faith in you.”
Tears came to Anchor’s eyes. Even if he went to the gallows, if she still had faith in him, then all of his efforts would have been worth it. “Thank you, my queen,” he said, falling to his knees. His heart filled with gratitude to the sea of people before him. She took his hands and helped him rise.
She stood on her tiptoes and whispered, “You may still call me Sally when we are alone or with friends.”
He couldn’t restrain smiling as she lifted up his hand in hers. “I give you the leader of the Alliance and a true friend of the crown! He may stand at my side.”
The crowd continued to cheer until a cart trundled into the square. A gallows had been set on it. The gates to the castle opened for the first time that day and Histron was led out. Anchor stood with his allies, all of them, and watched the former duke hung. The war truly ended at that moment and Anchor had never felt better. Sally had made good on her promise to have Unca and Anchor stand next to her when she regained the throne.
~~~
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
ON THE AYRTAN SEA
~
THE EUPHORIA THAT CAME FROM THE CONCLUSION OF THE WARS on Besseth played out soon enough as Anchor brought the alliance leaders into the map room at Foxhome that same evening.
King Willom huddled in a chair with Prince Peeron at his side. The five dukes were off in their own group muttering about something. Lessa represented Prola. Duke Jellas talked to Lotto, Mander Hart and King Goleto. Princess Sallia walked in with Shiro and Chika. Restella stood off by herself with her arms folded.
“You all know why you are here. King Willom?” Sallia said. The three continents of Goriath and the Roppon Isles were displayed on the map that spread out on the massive table before them.
He spoke from his chair. “I have sent spies to Ayrtan and learned that the Dark Lord commands a force of nearly fifty-thousand men. There is an endless line of wagons moving in both directions all the way along the continent to this point…” Willom used a pointer to mark the place, “where the Dakkoran forces are continually supplied from Zarron. The forces move slowly and will reach this port in three weeks.”
“He hasn’t made any move to subjugate the Ayrtans?” King Goleto said.
Willom shook his head. “No, the army doesn’t spread out at all. They are traveling in a single line that remains intact as an attacking force. It’s no secret what he will do. Learsea has a hundred leagues of coastline with many landing sites. He can invade Besseth, which will lead to more war and more deaths. I don’t want it.”
“Why should we help you?” Restella said. “We can bottle him up if he takes over Learsea.” She shrugged and turned her back on them.
Anchor spoke up. “You don’t understand, Princess Restella. He doesn’t want Learsea, he wants the Warstones.” Anchor pulled out the small volume that he had kept with him since Happly Keep. “According to this book, the writer theorizes that the right spell, intoned when the Warstones are together again, will turn the Darkstone back into the Purestone. The emperor must know more about the process than we do. Perhaps he thinks that he can somehow control the world with the Purestone. It was done before.” Anchor shrugged. “I don’t know if that is truly the case, but Daryaku is intent on getting all of the Warstones, so I’d give the concept some credence. The last time I looked, the Moonstone is in plain sight on your sword. He’s coming for you, through Learsea to you.”
“That’s madness,” the Duke of Deshine said.
“Isn’t that what we’ve been experiencing for these last terrible years? It is no secret that I’ve proposed for some time that we need to take the fight to him. Ayrtan is a better battleground than Learsea. Daryaku will attempt to take the Red Kingdom again and then Valetan. Who knows where he’ll have to go to capture Shiro’s Sunstone. Are we up to suffering many more casualties? Do we want to see our people and our lands ruined? I suggest that we fight on neutral ground and destroy the Darkstone.” Anchor took a deep breath and put his hand on his hips. He could see why Lotto felt that Restella ground him down.
“How?” King Goleto said.
Anchor waved the book. “Now, remember, this is speculation. This author of the book had access to information existing soon after the advent of the Darkstone. It says that if all of the stones touch without the spell, something bad will happen. Perhaps they all lose their power. It doesn’t say, but I’m certain that if we can combine the Warstones together, the menace ends right there.”
“No!” Restella said. “I will not give up my stone. This can’t be the strategy. It will be the ruin of us all.”
“I will gladly give up the Sunstone,” Shiro said.
Sallia took the stone from around her neck and laid it on the table. “The Red Kingdom will give up the Bloodstone, if it will save lives. I can have another jewel made as a symbol for my people. My family can’t use the thing’s magic anyway.”
King Goleto looked sharply at his daughter. “Valetan will provide the Moonstone, if Lotto agrees.”
“I do. I don’t know what will happen to the link with Restella or… other things, but if I possessed the stone, I would have it join the others.”
“It’s settled then.” Anchor nodded to Restella. “My sympathies, I mean it.” Then he looked around at the heads of state. “How many men and supplies can I count on?” Anchor said.
Anchor wrote down the commitments. He ended up with an army of thirty thousand but only had enough ships to carry two-thirds of that. They would have to do. Those that wouldn’t travel to Ayrtan would man the Learsean coast, should they fail to stop Daryaku.
“We will spend a week getting them moved to Learsea with teleportation and then we will train them for a week. Ayrtan sucks power from one with Affinity. I have been there once and know it for a fact. Our Ropponi and battle mages will have to arrive with full power and cannot use it for any reason until we close with the enemy. Once they have exhausted whatever they have, there is no nexus close by to recharge.”
“Same for Dakkor,” Mander Hart said. “It’s a good trade as long as they aren’t all mist warriors.”
Anchor laughed. “That is very doubtful. The mist warriors, as you named them, were a very select group. It’s likely there are no more of them.” Shiro nodded to Anchor with his agreement. “Let’s get to work.”
~
Daryaku continued to rant after the bird brought the final news from Besseth. “Histron is dead. My assassins are dead. And now an army gathers in Learsea to meet us on Ayrtan.” She grabbed their hair and pulled. Vishan could nearly feel the pain. He wished he knew how to pacify her rages, for now he worried more about Daryaku damaging their body before the Bessethians even arrived.
“I suggest we select the battle ground, Your Eminence. We have a month to prepare. When we deliver a decisive blow, you can enter Learsea at your convenience.”
That settled her down. “Very well. Perhaps we can set some traps?”
Bishyar bowed. “Of course.” Vish thought he noticed the general gritting his teeth.
~
Anchor stood in Willom’s study, looking out to sea with his friend. Ships filled the sea in all directions.
“I wish I could join you, but my health of late,” the king said. “I have told P
eeron that my decree is still in effect. Give him as few responsibilities as possible. He didn’t want to go, but I insisted that he accompany the Alliance to represent Learsea in the coming war.”
Anchor heard the pain in his voice. Willom didn’t trust his grown son’s judgment and he knew Anchor didn’t either.
The king grasped Anchor’s arm. “My other decree still holds as well. Should something happen to Peeron, you will take over my throne.”
Anchor shook his head. “When I accepted that, I didn’t know what my standing would be in the Red Kingdom court. That is settled now. I can’t renege on my fealty to Princess Sallia.”
“The kingdom is yours, Anchor. Fold them into each other. Perhaps it’s time Besseth united anyway. The Five Duchies all sing your praises. I don’t think they would balk at a unification.”
Anchor felt uncomfortable talking succession with a man of similar age, but King Willom had been insistent. “We can talk of this when we return—if I return. The flotilla sets out tomorrow.”
“You still insist on riding on that Ropponi ship?”
“I do. Shiro and his friend Mistokko insist upon it. They will be the first to reach Ayrtan.”
Willom put his hand on Anchor’s shoulder. “You know your own mind, and it’s a much better mind than Peeron’s,” Willom said and punctuated his thought with a sigh. “Go with my blessing, Anchor.”
“I will.” Anchor knelt before King Willom and left.
Anchor felt trapped in his current body. Part of him felt his youth and strength to be a facade, a trick on those around him. What if inside the outer shell, his sixty-odd year old organs were ready to give out? He had accepted Willom’s adoption as his son, over his own objections. His love for Sally had never diminished, even after she ordered him bound at Foxhome. He bore more burdens than just commanding the Bessethian armies.
If they were successful in destroying the stones, then what would happen to him? Would he be restored to his old, old self or remain a young man? The little book gave him no indication. The Moonstone had given power to Lotto and changed Restella physically. He thought there was a better chance that a reversal of the Moonstone’s effects might change the linked pair. Anchor had lost his power, so he just didn’t know.
He decided not to worry any more about it as he walked to the docks, talking to soldiers crowding the city, filing onto the ships.
He walked up the gangplank to Mistokko’s ship and found Sallia laughing at something the old Ropponi said.
“Anchor,” she said with a smile already on her face. “I have brought you something.” She took the Bloodstone from around her neck and placed it in a silk pouch, putting it firmly in his hand, with an extra squeeze. “I must stay and work on healing the Red Kingdom. May we talk more privately?”
Anchor nodded and Mistokko took a few steps back before turning and finding something to yell at the crew about in Ropponi. He escorted Sallia to the railing looking out to sea.
“So many ships,” she said.
“Over twenty-thousand soldiers plus support people and supplies for three months on Ayrtan. It takes a lot of ships. There are a lot of ports upset with us,” Anchor said, looking at Sallia rather than the flotilla.
“I will worry about you,” she said. “Worry about us. I want you to be my consort.” She put her finger on Anchor’s lips, stifling a retort. “No more about who you are and how old you really are. Remember me as the willful princess. I will not accept no as an answer, my very loyal subject. Come to me after you’ve done what you have to. I will accept you in any form. If we will be together for a shorter time, so be it. I have grown to love you in so many ways,” she laughed, “and in many forms. I want you with me.” She lifted her head and pulled down Anchor’s and kissed him. “Sealed with a kiss. I’ll expect a Ropponi to bring you back when this is all over. Promise not to disappoint me.”
She made him speechless twice in a month’s time.
He struggled to speak. “I won’t, Sally” They hugged each other.
She stepped away and straightened her dress. He noticed the glistening eyes on her face. “I must go.”
Chika came up and took her away.
Anchor stared at where Sallia had stood, her scent still lingered.
Mistokko walked up. “She’s a very fine woman, Anchor. You’re a lucky man.”
“I don’t deserve her,” he said.
“You are a better man that this, Anchor. She has forgiven you, yes?”
Anchor nodded.
“You need to look forward. Your time for looking back is gone. Forward, Anchor. Forward.” Mistokko strolled to the other side of the ship and yelled at the workers below on the dock. “Get those supplies aboard. We sail tonight!” He returned to Anchor. “I look forward to a few weeks sparring with you on my ship.”
~
The sea looked so blue. Lotto hated messing it up with the contents of his stomach. He wondered of what kind of trail thousands of stomachs made all the way from Learsea. Restella seemed unaffected. She rode on a few ships ahead of him.
“I told you to take medicine,” Mander Hart said, putting his hand on Lotto’s back. “Magical power doesn’t solve every problem known to man.”
“It doesn’t cause it either,” Lotto said. He looked around at the flotilla. “I think of over one thousand ships and the trail of refuse we must be leaving.”
“It feeds the birds and the fish.” Mander smiled as Lotto stood up.
“She’s not sick,” Lotto said. “I’m sure she’s gloating through the link.”
“I assure you that Restella isn’t gloating. One way or another, she’s going to lose her reason for living in just weeks, Lotto.”
Kenyr, Lotto’s friend joined them at the rail. The bear of a man just shook his head at Lotto. “I got that seasick thing out of my system when I travelled with your father and mother from Serytar to Besseth. I daresay I was just as sick as you are. If you’re lucky, it will go away. Probably just as we reach the shores of Ayrtan.” He laughed and that heartened Lotto. Kenyr had pleaded to join him as they traveled to Ayrtan. He wanted to look over him like he had since Lotto was first born.
“What can we expect from the Dakkorans?”
Kenyr rubbed his head with a meaty hand. “Emperor Shalil was a devious man, but he knew his limits and ruled the duchies with a light hand. He let Duke Mistad run his domain any way he wanted as long as your father sent him tribute through the Serytaran Grand Duke. Daryaku is a different sort. He was gaining power just as we left, but I sensed an evil rising out of Baku, the Imperial City. The Dark Lord takes a brutal approach to his rule and has done his best to ruin the entire continent of Zarron.”
“My spies concur,” Mander said. “Unstable, I often heard. The Emperor rules the entire continent from Dakkor and still strikes out as if he always has more to prove. Finding the stones is an unhealthy obsession. See what misery it has caused. The sooner we put an end to his rule, the better for the entire world.”
“The better for Serytar,” Kenyr said. “He’s turned everyone into slaves. I wonder what kind of training the army has? Shalil never had a large force, only enough for the odd revolt. I remember meeting an exiled Cuminee chieftain that had nothing but good things to say about Daryaku when he arrived in Bomai as a border guard. That was before Daryaku began his rise. It didn’t take him long to figure out that he’d been fooled by Vishan Daryaku and talked of heading back to Cuminee if things got worse.”
Lotto stood, feeling a bit better. “So has the Darkstone made the man insane?”
He got a shrug in response from Kenyr.
“I talked to Anchor about it and he perused his old book. No one knows. The Darkstone was interred with Wallyr, the Grand Emperor and then Daryaku shows up with it and vaults to the throne. He had quite a bit of vaulting to do, being the 22nd son,” Mander Hart said.
Kenyr chuckled. “Survival of the fittest. Emperor Shalil pitted them one against the other. There had been a constant winnowing before Da
ryaku rose to power.”
Lotto didn’t even smile. “I read parts of Anchor’s book, too, Mander. I can’t imagine the amount of power locked in the Darkstone if it shut down the entire nexus underneath Ayrtan. No one knows. Anchor doesn’t think the stone destroyed the nexus, but that it is cut off or shielded. I need to resist using any magic until we fight,” Lotto said. “Luckily, I have other ways to contribute.” He took a deep breath and smiled. “Maybe I need a little sparring. Our talk has put my sickness aside, at least until my next meal.”
“I’d be happy to,” Kenyr said.
~
Restella watched Gully Workman train his new rangers. She didn’t know how they were assigned to her ship, but her general aversion to rangers did little good now that they were in the midst of the sea. Captain Workman had come up from the gutter like Lotto. Still, she had to admire his attention to duty. He sported very rough edges, but he knew how to be a Ranger better than anyone she knew, except for Silver before he turned those many months ago. She couldn’t help but sigh at the memory of her mentor before the Dakkoran sorcerer, Peleor, had turned him. Two hundred and ten men sailed with her on one of the biggest Learsean ships. They slept in the hold and on the decks. All were rangers or rangers-in-training.
She envied their eagerness to engage the enemy on Ayrtan, but as they became more excited, Restella sunk into depression. She knew it and tried to fight her malaise, but the prospects of the Moonstone’s demise tore her concentration to shreds. Lotto would take it from her some time after they landed. Its power would help him more than her; at least that’s what Anchor had said. Her father commanded her to obey Anchor, as if he were her father. She didn’t have any choice, but to obey.
She identified a bit with Prince Peeron. King Willom’s son chafed under Anchor’s command, but the man couldn’t see the Marshal’s wisdom. Even in her most angry moments, she recognized greatness when she saw it. Her own memories of Unca, King Billeas’s wizard came to her. He looked impossibly tall and imposing when she was a young girl visiting Foxhome. She remembered him as old with a finely honed sense of humor that Anchor seemed to have lost with the pressures of command. Restella could identify with that. She knew that her own experiences in Ashdown, Oringia and Happly had produced a deep-seated grimness that was difficult to dispel.