The Guardian

by Angus Wells

  She started as he turned toward her.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.’

  Ellyn blushed, and turned her eyes—reluctantly—from his face.

  They rode the Great East Road now, passing farmhouses and fields where cattle lowed. Folk fled before them, frightened by the advent of a Highlander army after Danant’s depredations. Those folk she’d had the chance to speak with before they fled had told her of taxes and tithes that bled them dry; of Danant’s soldiers taking what they would, as if Chaldor were only some great purse that Talan looted. Some houses were burned down, and there cattle lowed mournfully for want of milking; and sometimes withered bodies hung from trees, pecked by crows. More sat on dead animals, and the warm air carried the stench of death.

  “They’ve ravaged your land,” Roark said.

  “And shall pay for it,” Ellyn replied.

  “You’ll be queen.”

  She nodded, and almost said, “And you my consort.” But that was for later—after Talan was defeated, so she only said aloud, “Yes—do we take Chorym back.”

  “We shall,” Roark said gallantly. “How can we not?”

  “Talan sits there,” Ellyn said, “with his Vachyn sorcerer. It shall not be easy.”

  “We shall take the city,” he said, “and give you your rightful throne. My word on it, and my life.”

  “I’d not see you slain,” she said.

  “I’d die for you,” he said. “Do you not understand?”

  “Yes.” Ellyn nodded. “But I’d sooner you lived.”

  And stay with me, she thought, and be consort to my queen, like my mother and my father, and the gods grant it be so.

  And then she sat her horse in silence as the Highlander army continued down the Great East Road toward Chorym and the settling of scores and restitution, and wondered if the battle would be won and she see Talan paid back and suffer her revenge.

  Or …

  She chose not to think about the alternatives. Gailard would take Chorym and she would claim back her parents’ throne. She would wed Roark and bind the Highlands to Chaldor. And then … She must speak with Shara about this, but why not pursue the war? Into Danant, and take what Talan had stolen from her parents? Go on to destroy the Vachyn? The gods knew, but Shara had explained their intentions, and it would be a gift to the world to end the Vachyn ambitions.

  But first, Chorym. One step at a time, as Gailard had taught her. Learn to use the sword first. Learn to hold it and swing it, learn to defend yourself, learn to shield yourself—then attack.

  She looked back to where her guardian rode alongside Shara, and felt a pang of … regret? Jealousy? She was not sure, save that her feelings changed, and she gave up her dreams of Gailard and loved Roark.

  But mostly she dreamed of defeating Talan and taking Chorym from him, and sending him running homeward … could she not slay him first.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  We met with little resistance as we rode west, and collected a ragged army of dispossessed folk who joined our cause in hatred and defiance of Danant’s rule. Most of Talan’s men were already fled, and more scurried like panicked rats at our approach. What few remained to face us, we crushed easily, so that the clansmen spoke of Danant’s cowardice and assumed an easy victory. I knew it could not be so, not while Talan still held Chorym. I knew it should be long, and prayed the clans remain. Siege warfare was not their style of fighting, and I feared they might grow bored and desert Ellyn’s cause. Mattich and the others assured me they’d not, but I wondered how their men would take the long weeks encamped around the city, with Vachyn magic likely abroad and no swift victory in sight.

  And then our goal loomed before us, and I deployed my army. It felt strange to face those walls as an enemy. I remembered Chorym as my home, where Andur had raised a simple clansman, and I had found kindness and learned of the world beyond the Highlands. Now I must attack and wreak destruction on that place that meant so much to me. I supposed it must be worse for Ellyn.

  I had prepared for this, remembering those books I’d read in Shara’s castle, and I set our men to unusual work. We gathered wood for the construction of ladders and battering rams, siege towers and crude catapults. There was plenty available—the detritus of Danant’s siege—and the folk still inhabiting the surrounding farms and villages came out to help us, hailing Ellyn as their rightful queen, so that before long all was in place and we stood ready to commence what I hoped would be the final battle. I was surprised—and therefore worried—that Talan made no attempt to halt us. I had anticipated forays, Vachyn magic—some effort to delay us—but none came. And as I watched the engines built I saw Danant’s men observing us from the ramparts. There was a figure I recognized from the Geffyn Pass, and I supposed the man beside him, resplendent in golden armor, was Talan himself. They were joined by another, robed in black, and I knew he must be Nestor, for even at this distance there seemed to be a dark and evil aura about him. I studied the walls, seeing where fresh stone was set like scars on the body of an old friend, and wondered where Ryadne had fallen, and vowed anew to avenge my friends.

  Shara and Ellyn stood with me, and I turned to the sorceress I loved.

  “Why does he not act?”

  As if in answer to my question, I saw the dark-robed mage raise his hands. They pointed toward us.

  Shara paled and raised hers, mouthing words I could not understand as lightning flashed across the sky. Not in honest verticality, but slanting horizontal from the city walls. I saw a moment of brilliant light, as if I gazed upon a mirror that reflected back the full brightness of the sun, blinding me. Then there was a clap of thunder that seemed to shake the ground and drum deafeningly against my ears. Light burst all around us, and I smelled scorched grass. I saw Ellyn copying Shara’s movements, voicing the same incantations. I felt my sword hilt grow warm against my palm, and my hair prickle as if I stood exposed in the center of a storm. Then silence—perhaps because I was deafened—perhaps because I stood within the aegis of Shara’s protective spell. My hearing returned, and I saw men fall to either side in screaming torches.

  “He’s strong,” Shara said softly. “He’ll send more such magicks against us.”

  I had no need to name her brother. She said, “I think perhaps he tests me; perhaps waits on me. He’ll sense my presence by now.” She hesitated, shuddering. “The gods know, but I sense his, and I suspect he waits to test my strength. Or …” She stared at the distant figure, a frown creasing her brow.“… he organizes some vaster magic that takes him time.”

  We watched the shapes quit the ramparts. I felt that the first blow in a long battle had been delivered—that Nestor tested Shara’s strength, and Ellyn’s. And wondered what should come next.

  Ellyn stared at the walls of her home and sighed. “When it begins,” she said softly, “it shall hurt Chorym, no?”

  “As little as possible,” I promised uselessly.

  “As little as possible?” She barked a laugh and gestured at the engines we’d built, the piles of stones, the waiting men. “I was born here, Gailard. Save for my time with you, I lived my life here. Now we come to ravage the walls my ancestors built, the place my father built. Doubtless there are still servants there.” She flung an accusatory finger in the direction of the walls. “Folk I knew, who served me and helped me. I remember a maid—Tyli—who set a compress on my knee when I fell in the gardens. I was … five? … and Tyli picked me up and dried my eyes and tended my hurt. Her hair was grey when last I saw her, but likely she’s still there. And Daryk, who shod my pretty white mare. Is he still alive behind those walls? And shall our attack kill him? And Tyli, and all the others?”

  “We’ve no other choice,” I said. “Save to leave.”

  “Perhaps we should.” She looked away across the fertile plain. “Perhaps we should go back.”

  “We’ve come too far,” I said. “The gods know, but we’ve done what none other has achieved—we’ve united the clans in your cause, an
d do you now say ‘up and go,’ all that is lost.”

  “And more,” Shara said. “Do we quit now, then Talan owns your kingdom and will bleed it dry. And Nestor will whisper in his ear and lead him on to greater ambitions. And where would you go?”

  I watched as Ellyn’s shoulders trembled. I heard her stifle a sob, and would have touched her, held her, had she not needed to make this decision alone.

  “This is not easy,” she sniffed. “Folk I knew shall likely die because of me.”

  “War is not easy,” I said. “Think you that I shall enjoy sending men to their deaths?”

  “You slew your brother,” she returned me. “Was that easy?”

  “I’d no love for Eryk, and he gave me no choice,” I answered her. “But these?” In turn, I indicated the circle of warriors ringing Chorym. “These men follow me in your name, and I shall not enjoy seeing them die.”

  “Did my father face such decisions?” she asked.

  “Yes.” I nodded. “And such doubts. But he swerved from them no more than your mother when she faced Talan from those walls. She had a choice then. She might have surrendered and held Chorym intact, save she knew her duty.”

  Ellyn coughed out a choking sound that might have been another sob. “I do not like this,” she said.

  “War slays the innocent,” I said. “How many died when Talan seized Chorym? How many farmers died? You saw the burned houses, and the bodies on the trees as we came here. Would you allow that to continue?”

  “And give the Vachyn another kingdom?” Shara added.

  “You are Chaldor’s queen,” I said. “Not all those folk down there are Highlanders. You’ve farmers in your army now, and shepherds, and vintners, and traders, all from Chaldor; those folk from Cu-na’Lhair who joined your cause. All those joined us to defeat Talan, and they follow us because they’d see you on the throne, and peace come again.”

  “I’ve no choice then,” she said.

  “I think not.” I shook my head. “I think that kings and queens often have no choice, but only the duty to defend their land and seek the greater good.”

  “Then let it be so,” she said, smiling as she saw a rider galloping toward us.

  Roark slowed his pony a little as he approached, but still managed to dismount on the run. A flourish designed to impress Ellyn, I thought, but must admit he was a good horseman.

  I was surprised when he addressed me.

  “There’s a force coming up the Coast Road,” he announced. “I do not think it’s reinforcements from Danant.”

  “Then who are they?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. My scouts reported them only just now. I thought it best to advise you. They come in numbers.”

  Roark’s Quan held the western section, which commanded the Great Road out of Antium—which was the port from which Danant would, logically, deliver reinforcements. I wondered what force came from there, if it was not out of Danant.

  “What do they look like?” I asked.

  It was a moment before he answered, for—having delivered his message—he gazed into Ellyn’s eyes like some love-struck puppy. It occurred to me to wonder if I looked at Shara so sickly. I also wondered if I must offend him by bringing him forcibly to the point—that some unknown army marched toward us, and we could not know whether it was friendly or hostile. I could not imagine where a friendly army might come from, and I felt like shaking him, or slapping his face that he wake to the potential danger and take his eyes off Ellyn.

  “Odd, so my scouts say,” came his answer as he tore his gaze from her face. “Like vagabonds. Surely not clansmen, nor Chaldor folk. My scouts say they’ve a woman leading them. She rides in a carriage drawn by men, as if they were horses teamed to draw her.” He shook his head as if this were the strangest thing in the world.

  “I’d see them,” I said. “How far away are they? And how many?”

  “Six leagues,” came his answer. “And perhaps a quarter our numbers.”

  I calculated distances. Dusk approached. An army might halt for the night, or march on to attack at dawn; I needed to know what force came up the Coast Road. Was it hostile, I’d need warriors to hold it and block the road.

  “No chariots?” I asked. Was it a force out of Danant, it would surely come with vehicles and mounted archers.

  “All afoot,” Roark answered.

  I turned to Shara and Ellyn (whose eyes were still fixed on Roark) and said, “Do you hold here while I go look?” And to Roark: “Stay here. Send word to Mattich and Jaime that a force approaches. Have them send one quarter of our men to hold the Coast Road until I return.”

  Then I ran for my horse.

  Roark was not so besotted with Ellyn that he forgot his duty. I mounted my bay with Quan around me, and we galloped westward as the sun went down and bats came out to fly the summer sky. I wondered what new counters were thrown into this deadly game.

  I halted my mare as fires sparkled ahead, spread across the Great Road and the countryside beyond. From the quantity of twinkling flames I estimated there were about a thousand men approaching, and circled my escort a little way southwestward to where a low ridge paralleled the Road. Were whoever led this force not a fool, there had to be sentries up there. But I had six clansmen with me, and I believed we could approach unheard and unseen—kid extract answers.

  We left our mounts in care of young Malcum (who would have objected were he not in such awe of me) and worked our way up the ridge. Sure enough, as I came to the rim I saw men waiting amongst the trees there. The moon was up now, the Hunter’s Moon, and its light showed them clear. I could not recognize them by their dress, which was most odd—baggy breeches and brightly colored shirts, little armor, and that mostly mail like the scales of fishes, or crude plate, or leathern vests. They carried wide swords and long daggers, two held bows, some long spears with recurved heads. None wore helmets, and I saw that their hair was worn long and gathered in pigtails or braids, and that hoops of gold and silver pierced their ears. I motioned for my men to follow me and worked my way along the ridge until I found two alone. I whispered my intent and we crept toward them.

  I took the first from behind with Calum as Otran and Vys seized the other. I clapped a hand over a startled mouth that opened to shout a cut-off warning as I grasped his sword arm. Calum punched him once in the midriff and smiled wickedly as he set a dagger to the man’s throat. Otran and Vys were no less efficient, and in moments the sentinels were hauled from the ridgetop into the shadows below.

  Calum held his dagger’s point to the man’s throat as I released my grip.

  “Do you cry out,” I said, “my friend will stick you. Who are you?”

  Dark eyes glowered at me, but he kept his voice low as he answered, “I am Leonardi of Hel’s Town. Who are you?”

  “Gailard of the Devyn, commander of Chaldor’s army and Guardian of Ellyn.”

  I was surprised by the smile that split his swarthy face as he began to chuckle. Calum pressed his blade closer, as if he thought the man gone mad.

  “Poor welcome you offer us, Gailard. We come to aid you and you threaten my life?”

  “What?” I demanded, confused. “What are you talking about?”

  Leonardi stared at Calum. “Tell this oaf to remove his blade. I find it hard to speak with a dagger pricking my throat.”

  I nodded to Calum. He took the dagger away—but held it ready.

  Leonardi said, “The Mother can explain it better than I. Her and Kerid.”

  “Kerid?” That name rang loud bells whose sound I could not quite believe. “The same Kerid as sailed in Chaldor’s fleet?”

  “The Mother’s consort,” he answered. “Now, do you leave me go, I’ll take you to them.”

  Calum said, “Don’t trust him. This could be a trap, and they on Talan’s side.”

  Leonardi said, “I might have to fight you, fellow. I give my word and you doubt it? I tell you, the Mother took us off the river to aid you. I give you my word you’ll
be safe with us.”

  I studied him awhile. I had read somewhat of the Hel’s Town pirates, and heard more of them from Andur; he surely fit the descriptions I’d read. I nodded to Calum. “Let him up, eh?”

  Leonardi rose, grinning at Calum as if his pride was assuaged. “Come,” he said. Then motioned to where Otran and Vys held the other. “But let Cyrus go, too, eh?”

  I gave the order and the one called Cyrus rose cursing. Leonardi beckoned him and told him to alert the (ineffective, I thought) sentries of our arrival. Leonardi himself would bring me to Kerid and the Mother.

  We went down the slope.

  I saw that most of this strange army slept on the ground. There were few tents and no horses, but a phalanx of men armored in fish mail, with spears and swords—faces hidden beneath piscine helms came to block our path. Beyond them I saw a great pavilion that shone like water under the moon’s light, with the palanquin Roark had described resting on the ground before.

  Spears were leveled in our direction and Leonardi cried, “Friends! I am Leonardi and I bring Gailard of Chaldor to meet with the Mother.”

  His voice was loud enough to carry the distance, and I sensed he boasted—as if I were a prize. I eased my sword, ready to draw. Were this a trap I’d sell myself dear.

  Then a man emerged from the magnificent pavilion and a voice rang out.

  “Gailard! Is that truly you? In the names of all the gods, I’d scarce dared hope …” He paused to call back toward the pavilion, then came running toward me.

  I recognized him: Kerid.

  He pushed past the armored guard and embraced me.

  “There were so many rumors … You fled Chorym, you died … By the gods, Gailard, it’s good to see you again. You’ve an army now? The Mother heard it was so … Come, you must meet her.”