by MJ Blehart
*****
Cam Murtallan stood, watching the four soldiers charge him. As they came near, he dropped to a crouch. He rolled into a somersault, coming up to a crouch again even with his attackers. He swung out his staff, catching a soldier’s shins and dropping him to the ground with a cry. Reversing the swing, he used the other end to do the same to a second.
Cam quickly stood, but as he did so, he drove an end of his pole into the gut of a soldier. As he doubled over, Cam brought the quarterstaff up into the soldier’s chin, hard. He toppled, stunned.
The last guard swung his sword at Cam. The Sorcerer tried to duck out of the way, but the blade still managed to just knick his upper arm. He yelled loudly, taking a step back. The pain was already gone, though he felt the heat of blood rising to his skin.
He faced the soldier, whose sword had come back up to the en guard position. The soldier stepped towards Cam, thinking to take advantage of his wounded opponent.
Cam swung his stick, knocking aside the blow. The soldier reversed his swing, as did Cam, again deflecting the blow. They did this several times, grunting louder with each exertion, every impact against the staff sending chips of wood flying. Then Cam stepped inside the soldier’s guard, bringing his weapon down upon the man’s wrist.
The soldier cried out, dropping his sword. Cam reversed the staff, butting the man in his gut. As he doubled over, Cam again brought up the pole, swinging the end hard, cracking a loud blow across the soldier’s face.
He crumpled to the ground. Cam proceeded to the two guards he smashed across the shins, neither of which had made an attempt to stand, possibly nursing broken bones. He was not going to give them a chance to rise, and butted his staff upon the back of the head of one, and across the bridge of the nose of the other. All four soldiers were down, unconscious or dead.
Cam looked towards Lyrra-Sharron, saw her facing the sergeant, three soldiers down around her. He glanced to the road, and saw after a quick count that a trio of horses were missing, one taken by Dak, two by his pursuers. Cam quickly searched for the last guard, realizing he wasn’t there. He faced off in the direction Max had run. Without another thought, he began to charge into the woods, hoping to reach them in time.
*****
The sergeant took a step forward, swinging out his blade in a downward arc from his right. As he did so, he pointed the tip of the sword back up, making for Lyrra-Sharron’s face. She brought up one rapier to ward off the blade, using the other to soften it, so as not to break her own weapon.
The rapiers were considerably lighter than the broadsword, and as the sergeant dropped his point and drew the blade before him in a guarded position, Lyrra-Sharron made two fast attempts at thrusts. But the sergeant was strong and quick, stepping back as he brought the broadsword up for another swing.
Lyrra-Sharron was forward, appearing slightly off balance. The sergeant thought to take advantage of this, and simply drove his sword downwards, attempting to take the Princess’ head. But Lyrra-Sharron was very good, and had in fact maintained perfect balance. She dropped to a knee, bringing up her right hand sword to ward off the blow. She began to then rise up, and drove her left hand blade into the chest of the sergeant.
He dropped his sword, looking down at the blade lodged in his chest. Just the tip of the weapon peaked out his back. He looked into the face of Lyrra-Sharron, as she wrenched the blade from his chest. The soldier collapsed.
“Not bad, sergeant. Not bad at all. Best sport I have had in months,” said Lyrra-Sharron, breathing a bit hard from her exertions. She glanced about her, noting all four soldiers were not moving. She searched for the Sorcerer, saw the four men strewn about where he had been. She looked towards the woods, finding the place where Cam had passed into the foliage, chasing the soldier in pursuit of Max and his wife.
Lyrra-Sharron hesitated. Should she give pursuit after them, or go to the road and try and help Dak?
One of the soldiers left by Cam groaned. Lyrra-Sharron decided what it was she had to do.
*****
Cam moved rapidly. He could barely make out the path the soldier had taken in pursuit of Max and his wife. He heard a scream just ahead.
Cam broke into a run, then came to a small clearing beside a stream, where he found them.
Max’s wife lay crumpled by the waters, blood seeping out of the wound in her back where the soldier had thrust his blade as she’d tried to escape.
Max had turned around, and tried to fight his pursuer. But it had obviously gone badly. His sword lay between Cam and the soldier, having been thrown out of his hand, and he was on his knees, pleading for his life.
As Cam watched, the soldier swept his sword back and up over his right shoulder, then swung down hard, removing Max’s head.
Cam was enraged by the sheer brutality. He didn’t even think as he rushed at the soldier. He found himself chanting in the ancient tongue, attempting to cast a spell as he reached the man .
“Steel!” he cried, the word that would unleash his power. With that, the end of his staff began to glow a steely blue. He swung it at the surprised soldier’s head, hard. He heard the sound of metal on bone as the soldier’s skull was cracked beneath the altered weapon’s blow.
The soldier dropped like a stone, and Cam froze a moment, then sank to his knees, bliss and agony, as tears welled up in his eyes. It had come to him, again. But just as quickly as he’d called it up, it was gone.
*****
Lyrra-Sharron had finished her task, and was cleaning her blades on a fallen soldier’s cloak. She looked up at the sound of hooves on the road. A single horse approached, and Dak Amviir swung down from the saddle. He moved smartly towards Lyrra-Sharron, his bloody sword drawn. He slowed down as he reached her.
“What happened?” he asked, breathing hard.
Lyrra-Sharron gestured with her blades. “We had a fight. It did not go well for the soldiers. Cam got these four, I took care of those. I think one chased Max and his wife, but Cam went after him. Did you take care of them?”
Dak inclined his head once in acknowledgment. “I caught the messenger and removed his head. Turned and surprised the other two. It’s been years since I fought on horseback,” he winced as he tightened his grip upon his sword.
Lyrra-Sharron noted the bloody gash along his left forearm. “You have been wounded, Dak. Let me take care of that.”
Dak shrugged her off. “Wait a moment. We’d better go after Max and Cam. They could be in trouble.”
There was a rustling in the trees, and Cam emerged, carrying the body of Max Parcall’s wife. He looked exhausted as he sank to his knees, setting her down.
“I was too late,” said Cam wearily. “And my power came to me again. But now it’s gone. And so are they.”
Dak checked Max’s wife’s body, and sighed sadly. Lyrra-Sharron crouched beside the worn Sorcerer. The look on his face nearly made her want to cry. “You did all that you could, Cam Murtallan. Take us to Max.”
Minutes later, they were back at the stream. Dak had carried Nyra Parcall’s body. They found the now headless Max, and the dead soldier, his skull crushed.
Cam looked over the carnage, sounding detached as he spoke. “I cast a spell without even thinking. I struck the soldier as though I wielded a steel rod. I killed him with one blow.”
Cam shuddered a moment in recollection. “I touched my power again, briefly. You cannot know the sheer ecstasy of that power. When it fades, and cannot be reached, it is the most agonizing sensation you could ever experience.”
Dak knelt by the merchant’s body, uncharacteristically gentle. “I’m sorry, Max.”
Cam stepped up to Dak’s shoulder. “Let me help you bury them, Dak. It’s the least I can do.”
*****
It was almost dark when they reached the clearing. Cam was concerned that the guards he had fought would be conscious by now. “I doubt I killed any of them,” he explained.
None of Cam’s former opponents stirred as he reached them. Whe
n he checked more closely, he found each soldier’s throat had been slit.
“What did you do?” questioned Cam angrily, glaring at the Princess.
“It was necessary. If they escaped, they would have reported where we were,” defended Lyrra-Sharron.
“That was brutal, and uncalled for,” said Cam heatedly. “You could have bound and gagged them. We’dve been gone before they could have done anything.”
Lyrra-Sharron turned and walked away without uttering a word.
Dak said nothing.
In silence, Lyrra-Sharron bound Dak’s wounded forearm. She pointed out Cam’s slashed limb to Dak, and the ex-soldier once more played healer to the sorcerer, dressing Cam’s minor injury. Lyrra-Sharron, meanwhile, began moving the bodies of the dead into the underbrush, further from the road.
As night fell, they took the soldiers’ armor and found pieces to fit each of them. The fugitives took weapons as well, and chose the best three horses still on the road. The rest were scared off by Dak, running away down the road in either direction.
Lyrra-Sharron noted that Cam climbed atop the horse with some familiarity, easing the Princesses’ concerns that he had no riding experience.
She spoke for the first time since Cam’s ire with her as they all made ready to ride.
“Dak will show the way. His night vision is excellent, and he knows where we must go. If we encounter more soldiers, stay back, and let Dak speak with them. We should be able to convince them we are from another company, so long as they do not notice me, or your staff. We should be able to make our hideout by dawn, with a little side tracking to throw off any possible pursuit.”
Cam made no response, not hiding his continued displeasure with Lyrra-Sharron over her execution of the wounded soldiers.
“Lead on, Dak.”
They rode off at a walk, Dak just slightly ahead, Lyrra-Sharron and Cam side by side, flanking. To the casual observer, they looked like a platoon, out on patrol. With luck, they would rejoin the Falcon Raiders by morning.
*****
King Varlock-Sharron Anduin pondered the last time he’d slept. Midnight was now long past, and the night before he’d gotten no rest, either. He sat alone now in the main chambers where the Council met. Scrolls were strewn all around his table, reports and requests and other business that he needed to examine. But he couldn’t concentrate.
Varlock-Sharron arose, stretching. He wore a plain grey tunic, black breeches, soft leather boots. His hair was down, a simple black leather belt about his waist, the end hanging to just below his left knee.
He moved to the window, looking out over his palace courtyard, into the city. He glanced upwards, seeing both moons, Aelunae and I’lunae, neither full, each more than half, outshining the stars. He contemplated a walk upon the battlements to clear his head.
He felt a change in the air as someone entered the room, and turned to see Lady Ara Wiram come in. She looked tired, but alert. She also wore very plain attire, a simple purple tunic and grey skirt to her ankles. She inclined her head slightly to the King.
“You should rest, your Majesty,” she said quietly. “You neglected sleep last night, and now you do so again tonight. You will think and act more effectively with a clear head.”
Varlock-Sharron grinned ruefully. “Are you certain you are not a nanny, Ara?”
She laughed lightly. “Nay, my liege. It has been a long time, now, since we had any children in the Palace. But I am worried about you. Any word?”
The King let out an exasperated breath. “None. We are certain she has escaped Gara-Sharron, but to where is anyone’s guess.”
Lady Ara took a seat. “I wanted to ask you about something I have heard. It came to my attention that you are no longer demanding the capture of your daughter alive.”
King Varlock-Sharron said nothing. He only stared out the window.
“My liege, can you really condone the murder of your own flesh and blood?”
The King continued to look intently out the window.
Lady Ara arose, and moved just behind the King. “Varlock-Sharron...speak to me.”
“She is a criminal. She incites rebellion. She stirs the people against me.”
“That is no answer.”
He turned to her, his face set. “Princess Lyrra-Sharron Anduin has committed highest treason. She leads brigands and rebels against me, and she makes a mockery of our family name. She knows the laws. She knows her crimes. The punishment for this is a forgone conclusion.”
“What about the stability of Sharron? The continuation of the rule of the family Anduin?”
Varlock-Sharron walked away, towards the table. He didn’t turn to face Lady Ara. “How can Sharron be kept stable under my rebellious daughter? I am still young. I can take another wife, sire another child. The Anduins will continue to rule Sharron. I will see to that.”
Lady Ara was silent a time, looking out the window. She turned to her King. “Since Kyrra-Sharron left us, you’ve taken many to your bed. But you have never loved another, as you loved her. Have you a mistress worthy of the void she left you? Can you sire a child by a woman you must make the equal of your dead wife?”
Varlock-Sharron turned to her, slowly. It sent a shiver down her spine, the look he gave her. His voice was formal, and determined. “I am the King. I will do what must be done.”
Lord Tulock entered, looking far more awake than Varlock-Sharron felt. “Your Majesty, we have a new problem.”
“What has happened?”
Lord Tulock laid down a scroll, and opened it. The King moved up behind him, and observed it to be a map of his eastern frontiers, the borders with Medaelia and Cordianlott.
“There are definitely soldiers in Penlorka, and they are increasing in numbers,” said Tulock. “But that’s only half. What’s most interesting, and by interesting I mean disturbing, are the soldiers quietly moving into northern Medaelia from Cordinalott.”
“Where is General Bodrir?” asked the King directly.
“Issuing orders to General Sopirr,” replied Tulock. “He and Sir Garvol will be here shortly. They sent me ahead to show you where the movement is.”
The King looked down at the maps. “How do we know about Cordianlott soldiers moving into Medaelia? How do we know they are not preparing to immediately attack?”
“I have excellent spies,” said Sir Garvol, strolling into the room with General Bodrir just behind him. “I have agents among the soldiers of Medaelia, and among the officers of Cordianlott. It would appear King Wilnar-Medira and King Juron have made some sort of deal. Lord Mika’s ‘rumors’ have some truth to them. Though I am still concerned that he heard anything before me.”
“I have ordered General Sopirr to double the garrison at Vanntir, and to move more troops into the Vann Region,” added General Bodrir.
The King shook his head, still looking at the maps. “No, General, bring him here. Get me the rest of the Council. Now.”
Lord Tulock Oran ordered the King’s guards to find the others.
In ten minutes, they were all there, save one.
“Lord Mika Forkuln is not in the palace, your Majesty,” stated Captain-General Callan. “No one has seen him since the Council met after the Sorcerer was freed. We’re looking for any useful representative of his staff now.”
“We shall have to deal with that later,” said the King. “If Lord Mika has already left Gara-Sharron, he is probably up to no good. We will keep an eye on this situation for later. Right now, we have more pressing matters. We need to move smartly. Tulock?”
Lord Tulock filled in everyone on the situation at the Medaelian border, and the apparent alliance between Wilnar-Medira and Pol Juron. When he concluded, Varlock-Sharron took over.
“Of course we are not meant to know of the troop movements between Medaelia and Cordinalott. If we shift more soldiers into Vanntir, we show them we know more than we should. We have already added several companies to the outpost in anticipation of the closing of Gara-Sharron becomi
ng public knowledge, correct?”
General Bodrir acknowledged. “Done. They arrive tomorrow.”
“Leave it at that, then,” said the King. He stood. “We shall convene again tomorrow, but for tonight, this is what I want to be done. We have an impending situation on the eastern frontier. We also have the threat of the Falcon Raiders inside our borders. I do not like the idea of a two-front war.” He paused, changing his attention. “Admiral Trem-Sharron, send more ships up the river Medanaria, quietly. I want them in a position to attack soldiers in the Vann region, or within Medaelia itself, or to ferry troops, if need be. But I want them ready.”
Admiral Trem-Sharron saluted. “It shall be done, your Majesty.”
The King looked to General Bodrir, and General Sopirr. “Place more troops just outside of the Vann Region, close enough to reach the border, but spread out enough to not look obvious to errant scouts. Also, and we will discuss this further tomorrow, I want a company, reinforced with reserves and trainees, to be ready to march towards our border with Cordianlott. King Juron always likes to curry favor with Wilnar-Medira. If he sees me threatening him, he might withdraw from any allegiance with Medaelia.”
Varlock-Sharron sat down again. “We must also be concerned with the Falcon Raiders. I want you to call up the reserves, and use as many companies as possible. Begin to sweep from fifty miles outside of Gara-Sharron in all directions. Check all the woodlands, abandoned villages, farmhouses. Everywhere. Leave no stone unturned. Find the Falcon Raiders.”
“Captain-General Callan,” the King addressed now the head of the Guardsmen. “You will send out Guardsmen to cover the fifty mile area between Gara-Sharron and the Army’s sweeps. That way, the Generals will be still have plenty of soldiers to bring to the eastern frontiers if battle appears imminent.”
The members of the Council acknowledged the King’s commands.
“Carry out my orders. Then get some rest. We shall meet again tomorrow, and I will map out the overall plan with you. We will be ready for any action on our borders, and we will find and eliminate the Falcon Raiders. Dismissed.”