Ambition and Alavidha

by Candy Rae

  “It is my honour to report to you sir, incoming Commanding Officer that the Vada has gone Sir and to hand over the Stronghold to you Sir; in the hope that you and yours will protect the citizens of Vadath with the same spirit de corps as the Vada has served your country Sir.”

  He saluted again and indicated that Romul should accompany him inside.

  “But where have they gone Weaponsmaster?” asked the confused Romul Durand.

  Davad Talanson stopped and looked up. Romul realised that his face was all blotchy with tears gone by.

  “They have left for the stars Major, to a new home amongst the stars!”

  * * * * *

  Romul followed Davad through the gates. He quite forgot to order his men and women to follow so shocked was he but the sergeants (who all but the most ignorant knew really ran an army) took it upon themselves to take the necessary steps (the other commissioned officers looked to be in a near incapacitated state anyway) and Romul was aware of the marching of the boots behind him and the calls and the orders as the non-commissioned officers ordered file after file into one building after another.

  Davad led him to the offices and living quarters that were the traditional rooms of the Susa.

  The office room, it was large and airy, Romul noticed, was very neat and tidy. There were maps on the walls, of the mainland, there were red lines marked on it which Romul presumed were the patrol sectors and other annotations he didn’t understand. The map of the southern continent was smaller and was underneath the one of the mainland. To his surprise, there was also a map of Dagan, the other northern continent.

  He saw that the shelves were filled with stacks of papers and some books. Romul noticed that there were gaps, he presumed that these were the ones Susa Malkum had taken with him when he left.

  A Ryzck patrol schedule was tacked to the wall behind the large hardwood desk. On the wall facing the desk was a painting of a Lai in flight.

  The desk itself was bare except for two things.

  The first was a large bundle tied together with maroon string. It was an untidy pile of what looked like letters. Romul noticed that the top one was addressed to the Councillors of Argyll and he deduced that it would contain Susa Malkum’s explanation about what had transpired and where the Vada had gone. The others were probably personal missives from the leaving vadelns and others to their families who were staying behind.

  The other was a single piece of paper, held down with a decorated stone weight in the shape of a paw.

  Written on it were two individual words, one sentence and a signature.

  ‘Alavidha.

  Farewell.

  May peace and joy be with you always and forever.’

  It was signed Susa Malkum and his Lind Freya, Last Commanders of the Vada.

  * * * * *

  -67-

  THE BORDER BETWEEN THE DUCHY OF HALLAM AND THE NADLIANS OF THE LARG

  “I need to go,” said Daniel to Vya and Zeb.

  “You will never become vadeln to a Lind,” Vya told him, “so why do you wish to leave with us?”

  “Thalia,” he answered in a desperate voice, “I must be with her. Please ask if I can go too, in this last spaceship, please.”

  “There will be no returning.”

  “I know, but I must.”

  “When the other humans arrive from Murdoch, join their group,” Vya instructed, “I will speak to those in charge and try to persuade them that you may go with us.”

  * * * * *

  -68-

  THE FAVOURITE MANOR HOUSE OF THE DUKE OF HALLAM - DUCHY OF HALLAM - KINGDOM OF MURDOCH

  The tearful farewells were almost over.

  On the manor steps stood Duchess Elizabeth Hallam, holding tight to her remaining daughter. Judith was weeping but her mother was not, at least not openly. Paul knew she was hurting inside. He certainly was.

  Beside these two were his son Liam with his wife Marie. Marie was holding her year old so in her arms and waving his chubby fist in an approximation of a wave. She was upset but looked relieved too that she was staying. This daughter-in-law of Paul was not of an adventurous disposition.

  Paul was in the courtyard where those who were adventurous, who were leaving for the Nadlians had congregated. Seated on the driving seat of the wagon were his widowed daughter Elizabeth and his second son Robain’s pregnant wife Pauline. Elizabeth’s two boys were behind their mother squeezed in amongst the belongings. Five year old Charles was chattering and bouncing with excitement. The one year old Michael Karovitz sat still and silent, his eyes round. There was a considerable amount of baggage in the wagon but they had been told that neither weight nor volume was a barrier.

  Pauline smiled at Paul and gave him the thumbs up.

  On Paul’s desk was a document, written by her, abdicating her inheritance rights to her grandfather’s ducal coronet. On old Duke Vincent’s death the title would now go to Pauline’s third cousin Count John. Paul Hallam fully intended to be around when the young man was informed about his good fortune.

  Elizabeth was holding the reins of the horses who were to pull the wagon. She was a competent horse-handler and Paul was confident she would manage.

  The other two leave-takers were riding.

  Robain sat his horse calmly, his face alternating between looking at his mother and his father. It strayed more often to the former. He and his father had said their private farewells before breakfast and the bond between this mother and son was a strong one.

  Jill Hallam was mounted on her pony. Her vibrant face was flushed with excitement and the excitement was communicating itself to her mount who was hoofing the ground. This didn’t bother Jill. She was probably, reflected her father, the best horsewoman he had ever met.

  With a smile he realised that she was wearing trousers and tunic, cast offs of either Liam or Robain from when they had been younger. She had always railed against having to wear the restricting female riding habit. Well. She could wear what she wanted to now.

  Paul didn’t approve of parents having favourites from among their children but if pressed he would have admitted that if he had to have one, it would be Jill.

  He laid a firm hand on her booted foot and looked at her.

  “You okay? Not having second thoughts?” It was a vain question and he knew it. “There’s still time to change your mind.”

  “Father!” Jill’s address was reproachful. “Not a single one except that I’ll miss you and Mother. I have to go don’t you see? I simply must. I must see Maru the Lai again. I simply must. He can fly! I want to fly!”

  At last Paul understood.

  “But I wish you and Mother were coming too,” she added.

  “I have responsibilities here child,” Paul answered, hiding the fact that in his innermost self he would have liked to. “I can’t just up sticks and trot away and it wouldn’t be fair on Judith either. I know you love her but her destiny is here, on Rybak. She is so looking forward to her marriage with Philip Ross. Actually I thought there might be a double wedding. When your Mother came home from Prince-Heir Elliot’s baptism she told me you seemed to be quite taken with young Daniel Ross.”

  “Him!” sniffed Jill, who hadn’t even gone out to say hello to Daniel when she had been told he was at the manor, “he’s all right I suppose but to marry him? I don’t want to get married to anyone Father, I want adventure, to fly!”

  “You’re about to embark on the greatest adventure of your life my Jill,” Paul with poignant tenderness reached up and drew her head down to his. He planted a kiss on her forehead.

  “There,” he said, releasing her head, “that’s from your Mother and me. Go with joy Jill. I’ll be thinking of you always.”

  * * * * *

  -69-

  THE NADLIANS OF THE LARG

  Daniel waited, unobtrusively merging in with the fifty or so people who arrived at the dom and trying to keep out of sight of Thalia. The families proved to be both understanding and accommodating, rearranging their possessi
ons so that Daniel could ride on one of the spare horses they had with them. The pack-horse allocated to Daniel proved clumsy and unintelligent after the months riding Vya.

  The group rode east, the small group of humans who wished to live with the Lind, Larg and Lai. They rode out into the desert and were joined there by what was left of the Larg, all adults and all male.

  “The ship is just over that rise,” said the self appointed leader of the human group, a small elderly man, a tailor by trade and one of the hidden members of the Avuzdel.

  Daniel wondered where Thalia and Josei were. Probably already on board he thought when he didn’t see anyone standing on the ramp which led into the immense spaceship.

  “What about the horses?” he asked.

  “To be let free,” another of the group answered. “There are grasslands a few miles south, plenty of water. They’ll be fine.”

  The ship, Daniel realised as he rode ever closer wasn’t just immense, it was immense. Daniel gulped as he unsaddled his loaned mount and picked up his scanty possessions. He followed the human group up the ramp. Behind them trotted the last of the Larg.

  At the top of the ramp he stood for a moment and looked back. The horses stood indecisively for a while, watching as their masters left them then one of them whinnied and sensing water they began to move away, snatching at the knobbly grass as they went.

  He watched as they stopped and started, ears pricked at the sound of a distant whinny. It was a stallion, one of those brought to this place by one of the previous groups, come to gather in the new members of his herd.

  Daniel wondered if he would know any of the people already on board. The group he had travelled with had all been strangers. Strange as it might have seemed, but he hadn’t recognised Jill Hallam.

  At least he would know Zeb and Thalia. He prayed she wouldn’t be angry with him when she found out he was here. Of course, Josei might have already told her what he was intending but he rather wanted to surprise her.

  He did feel a pang of regret for his family he was leaving behind. He hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye but he felt sure they would understand.

  “I wish you all well,” he flung the words out, “and hope that you all live long and in happiness.”

  “Regrets?” asked the old man who was watching him.

  “A few,” admitted Daniel.

  “But friend, I ask you, did you really have a choice?”

  He was right as Daniel realised, his regrets far outweighed his non-regrets and by a long way. He was taking the right road for him.

  “It’s a wonderful planet is it not?” continued the old man. “it has been our refuge, our home, for eight centuries. We are better people for the experience, no longer a part of isolationalist humanity but people wishing to live with the Lind, the Larg and the Lai, at peace. We go to make another world, a better world, free from strife, all species in harmony.”

  “Do you think it will be possible?”

  “Not possible, but certain my young friend.”

  * * * * *

  -70-

  THE SPACESHIP LIMOKKO

  “So we meet again Jill Hallam,” said Maru the Lai, his ear knobs twitching with inner amusement. “I rather expected I would see you here.”

  Jill lifted glowing eyes and laughed.

  “My choice was made to come before the choice to stay or to go ever existed Maru,” she answered, “I want to fly!”

  * * * * *

  -71-

  THE KINGDOM OF LEITHE – THE GREAT EASTERN SEA

  King Cadan of Leithe received the letter from Queen Antoinette with a face devoid of emotion. Rumours concerning the failed coup in Murdoch had been rife on the island this last tenday.

  The messenger was a member of the Ambassadorial staff in Murdoch.

  Cadan’s lips were set in a straight line as he acknowledged the man’s bow and held out his hand to receive the letter. He was about to learn the truth.

  The messenger backed away from his King. Cadan noticed that the man was shaking. Not good news then.

  He gazed at the front of the letter, then he turned it over. The reverse side bore the seal of Queen Antoinette of Murdoch. The sight of the seal caused Cadan an involuntary hiss to emerge from between his teeth. That the letter bore this seal rather than the one of his son rather bore out the percolating rumours.

  His son’s plans had failed. Still, it might not be too late to salvage something out of the mess.

  Cadan broke the seal with a manicured finger and opened the page. His eye strayed to the signature. It was that of Queen Antoinette. This confirmed his suspicions.

  He began to read. The words were stark and to the point.

  ‘His Most Royal Majesty, King Cadan of Leithe,

  I regret to inform you that your son, Prince Crispin, is dead. He died, I am informed, bravely and with honour, an honour he did not unfortunately, adhere to during his life.

  Your son attempted a rebellion against me and others. The attempt failed. Prince Crispin was apprehended and judged guilty of treason by five Dukes of my Realm. He was sentenced to death.

  He did not try to deny his guilt.

  He took his own life the night before the morning set for his execution, preferring this it seems, to the headsman’s block.

  As the once loved husband of my daughter and the father of her son, he has been accorded a funeral suitable to his rank and is to be buried in the royal cemetery here at Fort, but in an unmarked grave, together with royal persons in the past who have dared to challenge the rule of their lawful monarch. I trust you will have no objections.

  You will understand why I am unable to commiserate with you about your son’s death. If your son had had his way I would now be dead and my daughter, though still alive would now be facing a life as a queen in name only.

  I do not know if you were aware of your son’s plans. I suspect that you were, but, for the sake of my kingdom I am prepared, against my better judgement and under advisement from Conclave, to give you the benefit of the doubt. Diplomatic relations between our two kingdoms will revert to what was before the marriage of our children. Your Ambassador may remain. He will not however, be received formally here at the palace until Winter Court.

  As for the future, as rulers of our respective kingdoms I would wish that we remain at peace.’

  The last paragraphs were a warning and King Cadan understood this perfectly. His face became bulbous with anger as he read them.

  ‘We of Murdoch do not wish for war but will not condone any acts of aggression against us or any other country, island or state that is either allied or at peace with us.

  One last word, King Cadan of Leithe. Your ambition has led to the death of your son, others of rank and those not of rank. Their wives, mothers and children grieve.

  Please take the above words as an intimation that any aggressive acts shall ever be met with a punitive force of arms.’

  It was signed;

  ‘Antoinette, Queen Regnant of Murdoch.’

  There was a postscript.

  ‘May I also inform you that a man whom I believe is known to you, one Baron Erik Halfarm, is also dead. His personal possessions will be sent to Leithe, to his family, later. We relieved his person of a certain box which my advisors tell me you will be aware of. Please note that the box has been taken to a safe place. Do not look for it as you will not find it.’

  With a cry of rage Cadan crumpled the paper in his balled fist.

  He commanded everyone in the throne room to leave him.

  He sat on his throne for more than two candlemarks, staring into space.

  * * * * *

  Queen Antoinette’s letter was not the only bad news King Cadan received that day.

  A nervous Earl Marshall appeared at the hall towards the end of afternoon court.

  Like the ambassadorial messenger the man was shaking.

  He came to attention in front of his king and bowed.

  “Your Majesty,” he began, “I regre
t to inform you that our fleet has suffered a significant defeat.” The Earl Marshall flinched as Cadan’s dagger-agate eyes descended upon his person. He informed his wife afterwards that he thought the king was going to strike him down there and then.

  Cadan didn’t although his fingers twitched on his sword hilt.

  “Tell me,” Cadan ordered, spitting.

  “Our fleet faced the combined fleets of Argyll, Eilidon and Randall Your Majesty. They were badly mauled in a battle, seven leagues west of the Island of Galliard and were forced to retreat.”

  Cadan felt sure that this was the expurgated version, designed to tell him the bare facts in a manner designed not to rouse his explosive, lethal temper.

  “How many men o’ war were lost?” he asked.

  The Earl Marshall took a few judicious steps back before he answered. This alerted him to the fact that the defeat must be a bad one but even Cadan was dismayed and shocked when the Earl Marshall told him.

  “Five ships of the line Your Majesty and two were captured. The gunnery of the Argyllian Navy was I am reliably informed both accurate and deadly.”

  Cadan let out an explosive breath.

  “The rest of the fleet?”