by MJ Blehart
“Is that all?” asked Lyrra-Sharron, having expected at least double that.
“There were more, but they rode off. We haven’t much time. We’d better move now.”
Lyrra-Sharron took a deep breath, let it out slow. This was no time to move over-swift, and commit an error. “Alright. I have a suggestion. Max? Come here.”
Lyrra-Sharron explained her plan. Cam didn’t like it, but was willing to go along.
*****
Minutes later, Cam was escorted towards the constables at the aqueduct, the merchant Max holding the quarterstaff, making a show of forcing Cam to march before him.
“Constables! Constables!” called Max, his voice only barely hiding his anxiety. “This man tried to rob me! I overpowered him, and took this,” he shook the staff, “from him. Help me!”
Three of the four moved towards him. One spoke, holding a hand up, “My Lord, rest that staff on your shoulder. This is no place for you to be. Stop where you are.”
Max stopped, as did Cam. The constables came closer.
Suddenly the fourth constable cried out.
They all turned, only to see their companion up against the wall, sinking to the ground, a knife protruding from his chest.
Dak and Lyrra-Sharron were running towards them from the other side of the alley.
Cam grabbed the staff from Max, and swung hard, taking one constable in the back of the head. Before the other could react, he shifted, swinging the other end of the stick, smacking the constable across the face. Both dropped. As the third turned, Cam lunged forward, shoving the butt of the pole into the constable’s gut. As he doubled over, Cam brought the other end of the staff around, cracking it over the man’s head.
It had been rapid, but the constables were all down. Cam was leaning on his quarterstaff, catching his breath.
Lyrra-Sharron and Dak were there, and Max’s wife was coming down the ally from behind the merchant and Cam. Dak withdrew his blade from the chest of the first downed constable.
“Well, Cam Murtallan, I am impressed. It would appear you are, in truth, quite adept with that weapon,” said Lyrra-Sharron.
“Only way I survived on the streets of Aldara,” replied Cam, still catching his breath. “It’s nice to know I haven’t lost my touch. No idea how long its been since I’ve used one of these.”
“Max, Cam, help me move them into the service tunnel,” ordered Dak. “We have to move fast. The others will return soon. Our time is running out.”
Soon, all of the constables, two of them dead, were laid down in the access channel. One had been slain by Dak’s knife, the other by Cam’s quarterstaff. Cam found himself feeling no remorse for the man’s death, only pity that it had been necessary.
Dak lit a torch, and led them through the passageway.
No one spoke, and they waited for an ambush as they proceeded smartly through the narrow, dark tunnel.
When they reached the door, Cam concentrated, focusing, and stretched out with his mind. “Dak!” he hissed, before the man could open the door.
Dak turned towards him, knife drawn. Cam pointed to the door, and held up four fingers. Dak got the message, and inclined his head once to express his understanding.
Dak looked at Lyrra-Sharron, and she nodded her head up and down a couple times, her hands falling to the hilts of her rapiers. Dak motioned Cam forward, whispering his plan quickly.
Cam looked at him, acknowledging his plan. Dak changed his grip on the knife, and Lyrra-Sharron drew her rapiers as both took up position.
Cam knelt down, took a deep breath, then swept out a leg, quickly kicking open the door.
Dak leapt over the kneeling Sorcerer, and flew out of the tunnel. He rolled as he hit the ground, then leapt back up, turning to face the passageway.
Cam watched through the opening as all four guards moved towards him.
Lyrra-Sharron ran past Cam out the door. Two guards turned towards her. Both had swords drawn. The nimble princess dropped to one knee, thrusting up with the blade in her left hand, sliding into the gut of the first guard.
Cam watched, astonished, as she withdrew her rapier and rolled backwards, avoiding the sweep of the guard’s longsword. She stood up again, parrying a stroke from the guard’s sword with the blade in her right hand. She then parried with the rapier in her left. She jumped to the right, using her left-handed blade to sweep away the guard’s sword. As she did so, she thrust with her right-handed rapier into the man’s throat.
While Lyrra-Sharron fought, Dak had tossed his knife into the face of one of the guards. As the man toppled over, Dak moved to the left, drawing his sword from his back. Cam noticed both men take several swings, parrying each blow, until Dak ducked down, then stood up and stepped to the right, sweeping his sword across the guard’s chest.
It was all over in seconds. The Sorcerer found himself impressed with the combat skills of his rescuers. Dak and Lyrra-Sharron surveyed the area as Cam, Max, and his wife Nyra stepped out of the tunnel.
Lyrra-Sharron was cleaning off her blades on the cloak of a fallen soldier. “If there are guards here, clear of the city by a mostly forgotten passage, you can be assured that we will encounter more patrols soon enough. We had better leave.”
They moved the bodies into the passageway, sealing its’ door.
“We have about six or seven hours of sunlight left,” stated Dak with knowing authority. “They’ll find the guards missing soon, and start looking for us. We’ll be safer after night fall, but until then we must keep on the move.”
Cam let out a deep breath, feeling as though he’d been holding it in a long while. He had never thought he’d see the world outside of Gara-Sharron again. Though still on the run, he admitted he was glad to be free.
With Dak in the lead and Lyrra-Sharron bringing up the rear, they moved off into the woods to avoid the roads for as long as they could.
*****
The King almost marched down the hallway. Always good at controlling his emotions, this time Varlock-Sharron was obviously displeased. Servants, aides, soldiers, and anyone else who encountered their King cleared a wide path for him and Lord Tulock.
“What do you have now, my lords?” asked the King without preamble upon entering the council chamber.
General Bodrir arose from his seat. “My liege, an unknown number of rebels have made their escape from the city. They distracted us with a fire, then escaped through an aqueduct service tunnel in the north. They took out four of my men and killed two and wounded two of drey-Sharron’s. We are in pursuit.”
“The blaze was quite large, consuming half a block before it could be brought under control,” reported Constable Val drey-Sharron. “There was no way of knowing, until it was extinguished, that they used it to make their escape.”
“Order is being maintained, and we are preparing to seal off the aqueduct passageways,” added General Bodrir.
“What about their contacts?” asked the King.
Sir Garvol Dorran stood. “My liege, we finally cracked the merchant Kurr. His associate was a store owner named Max Parcall.”
“Have you brought this man in?” questioned the King.
“I dispatched a platoon of Guardsmen immediately, upon Sir Garvol’s request, your Majesty,” stated Captain-General Ov Callan. “When they arrived, we discovered it was his home that was the point of origin for the fire. Lieutenant Varg dispatched messengers to report this to the Constable and General Bodrir without delay upon this discovery. It all happened very abruptly. There was nothing else we could do.”
Varlock-Sharron paced over to the window, his hands behind his back. The others watched him with concerned anticipation as he stood there a moment, soaking it in.
“How could you let them escape? I thought this city was sealed,” hissed the King menacingly.
No one replied immediately. Constable drey-Sharron cleared his throat. “My liege, we took every precaution. We did all we could. Half the constables at the aqueduct were members of the district
fire brigade, and rode off to take care of it. The remaining guards were overcome, and no one has reporting seeing any who meet their descriptions on the streets at the time of the fire, near that passage. I can only presume they were well disguised. We thought we had every angle covered, but it seems we underestimated them. What else were we to do, Your Majesty?”
The King turned slowly. “Constable, you are on notice. I want new security protocols for this city, and I want them now. You have three days. You can take assistance from any of the members of the Council. And I want all service tunnels and other passages in the walls sealed, even if the city public works officials don’t like it. If I do not see an improvement in security arrangements with some meaning, you will be removed from your office, Val drey-Sharron. Under your watch, these rebels have gotten into and out of my capital, taking with them a dangerous prisoner who cannot be allowed to be free.”
His tone changed, become even darker and more menacing, if that were possible. “If not for your outstanding service to me over these many years, I would have you executed here and now. This is your one and only chance. Use it wisely.”
“Of course my liege. As you wish, your Majesty,” said drey-Sharron, visibly shaken.
“General Bodrir, who is in command of the Gara-Sharron garrison presently?”
“Colonel Gav Holov, your Majesty. He’s held this post for five years.”
“No longer. He is relieved of his command at once. Find someone who can assume the post, and promote him. Today. Work with Colonel Holov’s replacement and draw up new patrol and gatekeeping protocols within the week. Go over the training regime for those soldiers assigned to Gara-Sharron as well, and improve upon it. Make certain you coordinate with drey-Sharron, so as not to duplicate efforts. What has been allowed to happen here is intolerable, and I will not allow this to continue, and go unchanged. Understood?”
“Of course, my liege. What of Colonel Holov?”
The King paused to consider. “Assign him to an out-of-the-way duty post somewhere. Someplace unpleasant, where he can consider his mis-management of the garrison. An outpost up in the mountains, or Garwiln Island, perhaps. That will give him some time to think and reflect on his incompetence.”
“As your Majesty commands,” stated General Bodrir crisply.
“And General,” the King continued, “find them. Redouble your efforts to search for their hiding place. The Falcon Raiders are now your first priority. I will not have insurgents running free around the countryside. Search every farm, village, ruin, field, and forest. Assign as many soldiers as you can without hurting our border forces. Use local constabularies as necessary. This must be stopped. I will not play games with my daughter and her bandits any longer. It ends now. Is that clear?”
“Yes, your Majesty,” they acknowledged.
Varlock-Sharron took a deep breath, let it out slow before continuing, “Sir Garvol, what of the prisoner? Did he share anything else with you?”
“We know he only met your daughter once, your Majesty,” stated the Warlord, checking over notes. “His contact was a man named Dak Amviir. We have no information on this man, but are checking into him now. We believe he is not a Sharronian. The merchant knows nothing of their hideouts outside of the city, and named only a few contacts and associates in Gara-Sharron. Captain-General Callan immediately dispatched men to round up those he implicated. I believe we have picked his head clean at this point.”
“He could not tell you where they would go upon leaving the city?” asked Varlock-Sharron.
“No, my liege. It would seem information within the Falcon Raiders is only passed out on a need-to-know basis.” He sighed, and added, “Forgive me, Sire, for I may have trained your daughter too well. We have everything he could give us, your Majesty.”
“Very well then. Schedule him for termination once we have detained his associates. We do it for their benefit. That should loosen their tongues. Make it happen as soon as possible.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” complied Sir Garvol.
The King turned towards the door, signaling Lord Tulock to follow him. As he began to walk out, he paused and spun slowly back to his war council.
“Continue with your duties. I want to be done with this nonsense. You have served me well, my lords. I consider each of you to be strong, trustworthy, and loyal. But as you are well aware, that does not insure tenure in your position. You have all failed. Do not disappoint me again.”
Chapter 10
It was nearly evening. Dak had led them into a small clearing in the woods, about a hundred yards off the road. Lyrra-Sharron and Cam were both calm, drinking water, but Max and his wife were clearly uncomfortable, and tired to the point of tears.
Dak and Lyrra-Sharron had agreed that approaching one of their bases or strongholds would not be wise before sunset, and had constantly changed the direction they were moving in, as well as their pace. They were working hard to confuse any potential pursuers.
More than once the oddly-met party had ducked behind trees well off the road, keeping as silent as they could, to avoid patrols along the roads. They were only stopped now because Max’s wife had collapsed, sobbing, exhausted, crying that she was unable to go on without rest.
Lyrra-Sharron was not pleased at all to be stopped, and was rather short with everyone. Dak was keeping an eye on the road.
“How much further?” asked Max, breathing hard still. He was shaking slightly, sitting upon a cloak.
“We cannot go too far into the woods here. They are dense, and we’ll not want to be there after dark,” stated Dak, still keeping his eyes towards the road. “But we are still too close to the city. We don’t have very many choices.” He turned to look directly at the merchant. “I’m sorry, Max, we can’t stop here for long.”
Cam Murtallan stood up and stretched. “I know this may sound odd, but even on the run like this, I have to admit it feels good to be free. I feel better than I have in weeks now.”
Lyrra-Sharron looked towards him. She’d been sitting cross-legged, picking despondently at blades of grass and dead leaves, between throwing nasty glances toward the merchant and his wife. “Actually, I am rather surprised you are doing as well as you are. My father seldom leaves his captives mobile. After all you have been through, you do not slow us down at all.” The Princess glared at the merchant and his wife once again.
“We are not accustomed to such rough living,” stated Max’s wife, still nearly sobbing. “We do not run about like criminals. We are not conditioned for this sort of action.”
“Hush!” Dak hissed.
Lyrra-Sharron stood, and Cam looked towards the direction Dak was facing.
They were just on the road, a group of a dozen Sharron Army soldiers. No one made a sound, as the group very slowly walked the highway on horseback, looking into the woods. Looking right at them.
“By the gods! There! In the trees! The rebels!”
“Leave the saddles! You, Corporal, get to the garrison and bring reinforcements! Move!”
“We will have to fight our way clear,” said Lyrra-Sharron calmly, drawing her swords. “Dak, you have to get the man on horseback. Cam, take a few more steps away from me, force them to separate. Max, go into the woods. Take Nyra. Run!”
Max clumsily drew his sword, and taking his wife’s hand, ran off fearfully into the forest. Lyrra-Sharron, Dak and Cam spread out and began to move towards the approaching soldiers.
Fortunately for them, there were no archers.
“Surrender, your Highness. I have orders to return you to Gara-Sharron, alive...or dead. The choice will be yours,” stated a soldier with a large broadsword.
“I have a better idea, Sergeant. How about you and your men join us? I promise you will be well rewarded, and you can help me when I take the throne from my father.”
“I don’t think so, Highness. I am loyal to General Bodrir. He is loyal to the King. I have my orders.”
“I will not go quietly,” said Lyrra-Sharron.
&n
bsp; “Take them!” the Sergeant ordered.
The soldiers raced towards them at a charge.
Dak ran head-on into three soldiers. He dove for the ground, rolled, and leapt up, sprinting for the road. Two out of three soldiers gave pursuit.
Four soldiers, including the Sergeant, moved towards Lyrra-Sharron. She stepped to the side, and met two head on as the others circled her.
Four more approached Cam. He simply stood his ground.
Dak reached the road, and jumped onto the back of a horse. Before his pursuers could reach him, he took off at a gallop. Both soldiers took to horse, and gave chase.
Lyrra-Sharron thrust at the first of the two she faced. He stepped to the side, as she crouched down and parried a swing from the next. She rose up, blocking the same soldier’s sword, then thrusting her right-handed blade through his chest. She spun about, her left-handed rapier slicing across the unprotected throat of another.
As both soldiers fell, the two others moved forward. Simultaneously, they attacked, the sergeant with a swing of his sword, the other with a thrust.
Lyrra-Sharron blocked the swing, and jumped back out of range of the thrust. She stepped back in, parried the blade thrusting towards her to the ground, then lunged, driving her right-hand rapier through the chest of the soldier.
She stepped forward out of the lunge, withdrawing her blade from the fighter. As he fell to the ground, she stepped back into an en guard position, and faced the sergeant.
“Impressive, your Highness,” remarked the sergeant with a note of admiration in his voice, “Those were good men. But I am a master of the sword. Surrender to me.”
The Sergeant had a broadsword, but no shield. Lyrra-Sharron had two rapiers. The broadsword was a long, heavy weapon with a wide blade and upward swept quillions. The rapiers were long, thin blades, with intricate guards and quillions, one side swept up, the other down. With enough force, the broadsword could simply slice the rapier blades in half.
Lyrra-Sharron was barely breathing hard. “I will not surrender. You will have to fight me. I have always wanted to see if my mastery of the rapier was a match for a broadsword master. So lay on, then.”