Lord Cheesewright struggled to his feet as the Guards eased back and turned angry eyes on Java. “I’ll deal with you later.” Regaining his composure, he turned to Duke Kaster. “My Lord Duke, you asked to see me?”
“No. I commanded your attendance,” Duke Kaster all but growled as he stepped forward to look into the captain’s eyes. “Why was it necessary for my son to take to the field to relay your orders? You were sent here to support the Lender’s Dale Guard, not sit on your ass in the capital.”
Captain Cheesewright straightened his uniform before speaking. “Lord Duke, I interpreted my orders as...”
“There was nothing to interpret!” Kaster snapped. “You obstinately refused to obey the orders you received, placing my son in danger for no reason. You will report to General Warles Greensboro, where you will tender your resignation from the Guard. Is that understood?”
The captain blinked rapidly several times before he could think of an answer. “Lord Duke, you cannot be serious. Why, I have served in the Guard for years. My family has served for generations. Why would you want my resignation?”
“For stupidity?” Java offered, and the captain rounded on her again. Lieutenant Norstrand got between the captain and Java, staring him in the eye as if daring him to make a move.
“An excellent suggestion,” Duke Kaster murmured. “Or how about trying to strike Princess Java of Hiddendell? Not to mention insulting her.”
The captain suddenly realized why the Hiddendell Royal Guards had surrounded him. “Princess, I didn’t...”
“...Think,” Duke Arten said, walking up beside Kaster. “Addressing my daughter as ‘girl’ is at best discourteous. At worst, as you found out, painful.” Turing to Kaster, he winked so the captain could not see it. “Duke Kaster, I wish to register a complaint against this person. He has insulted and attempted to assault my daughter and heir.”
Kaster nodded. “As you wish, Cousin.” Reaching out to Java he borrowed a knife from her bandoleer, then turned to face the sweating captain. “Lord Cheesewright, for the crime of insulting and attempting to strike Princess Java of Hiddendell, you are hereby dismissed from the Guard.” He used the knife to strip the insignia from the captain’s uniform, marveling at just how sharp Java kept her knives. “Return to your family.”
Lord Cheesewright looked Duke Kaster in the eye, then nodded and looked at the ground and said, “As you command, Duke Kaster.” He left, never taking his eyes off the ground as he walked away.
“Twit,” Duchess Werrin muttered, making her husband and friends chuckle. “You’re going to have to deal with his father when we get back.”
“I’ll worry about that when we get back,” Kaster muttered back at her. Tuning to Java, he returned her knife. “My apologies, Java.”
Java laughed and nodded. “Let’s get back to the party.”
* * *
Duke Panit of Lender’s Dale joined his wife and family for court the next morning. “Thank you all for coming. Samantha and I are very happy to see you, and to meet our new friends. However, this is not a happy time. Duke Arten, Duke Senden, Father, we need to plan our course of action. Sam has told me of the plans you’ve already made, but there’s a problem: Lender’s Dale can barely feed herself. We cannot afford to join this venture at this time.” Pan looked disturbed and a little embarrassed by that, and Java acted with her characteristic impulsive generosity.
Walking to Samantha’s side, she took her hand. “Sam, I’m sending an order to Greensboro to transfer two thousand gold royals to the Lender’s Dale account. Why don’t you hire the Latté?”
Samantha looked at Java, then surged out of her chair to hug her. “Oh, Java, you don’t have to give us everything you have. What about your counties, your people?”
“Marta said I have over seven thousand. Besides, this is something I want to do. You deserve to be an active part of this, above and beyond your Guard.” Java patted Samantha’s back, then returned to her seat.
Panit was staring wide-eyed at Java. “It would appear that we can afford to be part of this venture. Very well. When the Latté arrive, we will hire them. How many fighters does that give us?”
Numbers were compared and totaled, finally reaching the impressive figure of thirty thousand men and women. “...And don’t forget Helena and Mountainhome,” Duke Arten said as the number was considered.
“Andy should at least provide supplies, if not fighters,” Shair put in, smiling. “The stories we keep hearing about his break with Lebawan sound encouraging, but I don’t know how many supporters he could afford to lose.”
Orders were sent the next day to General Marston and the assembled captains. The entire force was to make its best speed to Blue Lake City. Frander was not to be allowed to consolidate his hold on Lakeland.
The triplets left Samantha among tears and kisses, promising to be careful and to come back. “I want to go with them,” Sam whispered as they disappeared around a bend in the road.
“So do I, Sam. So do I,” Java whispered, and Jah’Moke nodded.
CHAPTER 12: LAKELAND
Attack. Defense leaves the decision of when, where, and how a fight will occur in enemy hands. Take the initiative and make them fight on your terms.
Master Scholar Prince Stavin Zel’Andral, “The Short Warrior’s Guide”
MERRIT LED HER FORCE INTO LAKELAND on the first day of autumn. The weather was still warm, but the nights were beginning to get cold. They were spread over almost one hundred and fifty miles of border, but the largest force was in the center, on the road that led to Blue Lake City. That was where Merrit was, and where the triplets were as well.
Mayrie shivered in her saddle, hugging herself to keep her fingers in her armpits. “Did we really spend the winter in Java’s tent?”
“Yes, we did, but I don’t know how,” Maylee answered. “We’ve gotten soft.”
The road to Blue Lake City was long and crooked, detouring to a dozen small towns and villages. Most of the towns were deserted except for a few stragglers and looters, scrounging what they could from what the people had left behind. Merrit had any able-bodied men or women who were found thoroughly checked by the triplets, then stuck them in uniform and put them in ranks with the other untrained men and women. They were there for an impression of strength only. Merrit would never send untrained people into battle, but Frander’s generals wouldn’t know they were untrained. With any luck, the generals would simply assume they were the reserves.
The great crescent-shape of Blue Lake City was perched on the shores of Blue Lake. The lake was twenty miles across, almost perfectly round, and more than two thousand feet deep. The water was a deep, sapphire blue that reflected the sky like a mirror. The city itself was almost as impressive as the lake. Fifty thousand people called Blue Lake City their home, and their prison. Frander’s army had surrounded the city, pounding at the defenders with Magebolts and more mundane weapons as well.
Merrit looked down on the city from the top of a nearby hill. “He has at least twenty thousand men arrayed against them. The camp is closest to us. I want harassing patrols in the field immediately. Let’s get his attention.”
Archers and Scouts advanced, making their way to the forest outside the camp and waiting. Merrit had designated the South Gate Tower as her clock. When the line of the setting sun reached the spire, the archers were to each rain five fire-arrows down onto Frander’s camp, then withdraw. The plan went without a hitch, until Merrit noticed something odd: There was no sound from the camp. No shouting, no screaming, nothing. Suddenly fearing the worst, she sent for the triplets.
“Mayrie, blast a hole in the center of that camp. There’s something very wrong here!” Merrit ordered, never taking her eyes off the smoldering camp. Mayrie and her sisters melded their powers and sent a massive magebolt into the center of the camp. Tents and cots flew, but no men. Merrit suddenly began shouting, “Withdraw! Withdraw! It’s a trap! Withdraw!”
The triplets looked at one another with wid
e eyes, then they began blasting the tree line in front of them. Now they could hear and see the enemy troops where Frander’s generals had positioned them and see the attack. Frander wasn’t using controlled troops here. Rather, he was using troops that were willing and eager followers. Men ran toward them, shouting at the top of their lungs, and dying in droves as the triplets wielded their magic to cover the fighters. Merrit ordered the archers to regroup and begin firing into the attackers.
An arrow that an Adept had placed a spell on slid through the triplets’ shields, striking Mayrie in the arm. The pain and shock dropped her out of the meld with her sisters, and suddenly they were vulnerable. Struggling back to her feet, she initiated the meld again, but they were not as powerful as before. Still, they managed to kill hundreds of men before the survivors withdrew, leaving the field littered with the broken and bloody bodies of their compatriots.
Merrit found the triplets clinging to one another, with Maygren and Maylee trying to put a bandage on Mayrie’s arm. They were hampered by their tears. In all their battles, and all the adventures they had shared, none of them had ever gotten seriously hurt before. Merrit looked at Mayrie’s arm, then sent all three of them to the healers’ tent to be tended, and to help.
Captain River’s joined her, along with Captain Edgemont and Captain Beechwood. “Merrit, are you all right?” Klamath asked as soon as she entered Merrit’s tent.
“Yes, but not by much,” Merrit answered. “Damn, I should’ve foreseen this.”
“Foreseen what, General Marston?” Captain Edgemont asked.
“Foreseen that Frander would be expecting us!” Merrit answered sharply. “Damn, I’m so stupid. He tried for Java, to keep Duke Arten from sending help. I should have expected him to be ready for us.”
“We didn’t fare too badly for all of that, General,” Captain Beechwood said encouragingly. “Those Magi of yours are phenomenal.”
Merrit nodded. “Yes, they are. I need casualty reports. Ours and his. Make sure that no one takes anything from any of those bodies. Frander isn’t likely to leave them here unless they serve a purpose.”
The damage was light, but still grim. Three hundred dead, and another five hundred wounded and out of commission. “Eight hundred in the first battle. Gods below, how could I be so stupid?”
Mayrie was sitting in a chair and cradling her arm. “You don’t get this one to yourself, General. We should’ve checked the trees closer to us as soon as we got here. Damn, this hurts!” she exclaimed as she tried to straighten her arm. Even with the Healing Spells, it was going to be sore for a few days.
“And we gave worse than we got. We counted a thousand dead before they began dragging them away,” Maygren added, her grim expression saying what she thought of a thousand dead men.
“He won’t get a second chance like that,” Maylee said, her face all but hidden behind her knees. “He will not get a second chance.”
Over the next week the triplets used their power to scour the area around Blue Lake clear of Frander’s troops. After the sixth day, they found very few men outside of the camp. Once they were satisfied that their camp as safe, they again attacked the besieging force. And again, nothing happened. The other Adepts joined the attack, slashing into tents and wagons with Magebolt after Magebolt, and never a sound from the enemy. Merrit finally ordered a halt. “Scouts, I want an assessment of that camp.”
Lieutenant Star Addisen saluted and departed, then sent six two-woman patrols into the enemy camp. The Scouts returned much too soon.
“Sir, that camp is empty. The men in formation are all dead.”
“They’re all mummies. Dried up dead men dressed in uniforms. And from the looks of them, they died where they stood,” another Scout reported, her eyes bleak. “Some of those men were just young boys.”
“They all have stakes driven into the ground behind them, and thongs around their necks.”
“Then where are the rest of Frander’s fighters?” Merrit asked, looking at the gathered captains and Magi with wide, haunted eyes.
* * *
Messengers rode hard to take Merrit’s messages to Morrisdale, but they arrived too late. After the wedding, the dukes had returned to their own duchies, content with letting Merrit run the war. After all, what was there to worry about?
Five hundred of Frander’s picked men descended upon Morrisdale with the rising sun, killing and burning as they went. They had one goal in mind, and the Sheridan farm was invaded immediately. The Guards fought bravely, and died, but to no avail. Before the day was an hour old, Duke Panit and Duchess Samantha were Frander’s prisoners.
Few of the area’s residents had survived, but there were those few. Lothar crawled out from under his brother’s barn cautiously, looking and listening for any sound. Motioning for his family to remain where they were, he searched the house. There was no one there, thankfully, and he went to find out the extent of the damage while Aaron guided his family out of hiding. He returned within the hour, grim faced and clutching a bloodied sword in his hand. “Aaron, we’ve got to go. Round up a horse or two and load the wagon.”
“What happened, Lothar? What did you find?” Aaron asked, clutching Bethany’s hand tightly.
“It isn’t what I found. It’s what I didn’t find. Duchess Samantha and Duke Panit are gone.” Lothar spoke in a flat, dead voice as he slowly shook his head. “All of the Sheridans are there. It looks like they tried to fight and were struck down.” He shook his head and closed his eyes. “Savvin, Florian, Branard, Gloriden, and even the girls were slaughtered. Everyone at the farm is dead, even the servants. It looks like the guards tried to fight and were killed to the last man. All the bodies are there, but not the duke and duchess. I think they’re captives.”
“What do we do, Lothar?” Bethany asked, looking between her husband and brother-in-law.
“We run. Hard. Thunder Ridge is the closest of the towns in Mountainstand, and Captain Thuringer will have at least a holding force there. They can be the messengers to the dukes. And to Princess Java. I don’t want to see her reaction to this.” Lothar allowed a grim smile to cross his face. “I’ll bet Frander doesn’t want to see it either.”
It took Lothar and his family two days to reach Thunder Ridge and spread the alarm. Then they and volunteers from Java’s towns returned to Morrisdale to bury the dead. Lothar and Aaron saw to the Sheridans personally. They had been friends with Branard when they were boys, and they felt he owed their friend’s family that service.
* * *
Riders lashed their horses to reach Firedale and Highland, and from there the capitals. The reaction was predictable enough.
Duke Kaster ordered the full mobilization of his people, and then ordered the full-scale invasion of Lakeland. No man who could wield a sword was exempt from the call to arms, and an additional thirty thousand men marched in straggling columns toward Frander’s army.
Duke Arten was even less restrained. “Naria! Get your bow!” he shouted, drawing startled oaths from everyone close enough to hear. “Frander has captured Samantha and Panit!”
Java was at his side immediately, snatching the message from his hands and reading it as her hands began to shake. “I’m going after her.”
“No, Java, you can’t...”
“No! I’m going after Sammy!” she shouted, backing away from Arten and glaring at him with unbridled fury. “No one hurts my family and lives!”
* * *
The messengers that reached the army knew their news was going to hit the general hard. How hard was still a shock. Merrit screamed at the sky and fell to her knees. Anness was right beside her.
“No! Damn that bastard to Eshokanal’s hell! Why? Why kill everyone?”
Anness hugged Merrit’s arm and just cried. She wasn’t the only one. The triplets, along with most of the senior staff, cried along with them. They knew Samantha. They had fought beside her to retake Lender’s Dale.
“We have to get her back,” Maylee gasped between her sobs.
“Frander has attacked us again, Mayrie snarled. “Time to take the fight to him.”
* * *
Java led Robin, Jah’Moke, and Carlin toward Lender’s Dale, driving their horses hard, but carefully. None of them could afford to be unhorsed, either through accident or exhaustion. Behind them, following as well as they could, came the Hiddendell Royal Guard. Arten and Naria, as well as a furious Marta Freeholm and as many former Firewalkers as she could round up, rode with them. Marta had reacted badly to the news concerning Samantha’s kidnapping, and worse to the news of Java racing into danger once again.
“Won’t that girl ever learn?” she growled at Naria, her eyes narrowed in concern and anger.
“No, I don’t think so,” Naria answered softly. “Not when her family is involved.”
Arten hadn’t said anything, just nodded. He, like Kaster, had called for immediate mobilization of the people of Hiddendell. Not to rescue Samantha and Panit, but to find and protect their princess. Six days out they overtook the Hoard and found themselves being challenged by Captain Vadala’s Scouts.
“Halt! Who are you?” a disembodied voice shouted as the Hiddendell force rounded a bend in the road.
Stephen Corban rode forward with his hands in plain sight. “We are a force from Hiddendell. Who are you? Guards?”
The woman who rode out of the woods was obviously not a Greencastle Guard. Her patterned uniform had blended so well with her surroundings that Stephen hadn’t seen her until she moved. “No. Who are you, Sir?”
Stephen straightened in his saddle. “Lord Captain Stephen Corban of the Hiddendell Royal Guard. Your turn, Scout.”
The woman looked carefully at him, swallowing with obvious nervousness. “Scout Beryl Riley, of the Hoard. What are the Hiddendell Royal Guards doing out here? We thought the duke had gone home.”
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