Crystal King (Riland Throne Book 1)

by John Olsen

  “I wasn’t going to mention anything, since it was the king’s court that put the collar on me on behalf of your father, truth be told. I suppose I will need to save my conniving and deceit for later when I’m spying.”

  The murmur of voices reached them from the street through the open doorway, and Brother Cleo poked his head around the corner. “Sir, this man claims to be a messenger for Adrian. He’s injured.”

  Both Gavin and Adrian said in unison, “Send him in.” Adrian shrugged at Gavin and turned to the door as one of his spies stumbled in with a forearm wrapped in a crude bloodstained bandage. He fell to his knees on the wood floor with his good hand holding another wound in his side.

  The spy breathed in quick, ragged gasps. “The army took out one of our patrols and advanced on us before we knew where they were. They found a large cache of supplies somewhere and picked up their pace. They know you’re here and they didn’t stop to camp. They’ll be on us by morning.”

  Gavin wondered how many poor villages had given their all, or if the army had run across Richland’s people before they got to their refuge. It wouldn’t change their plans, but he wanted to know who to burn candles for when he could take the time. Mourning would have to wait. The caravan and the city would be destroyed if the full army caught up with them here. They had slowed the army before, but it was temporary, and they wouldn’t fall for something like the trench trap again. There were few options to choose from, but he had an idea.

  “Adrian, I need you to work out a distraction to draw off their army. Lead as many as you can away from us. We need more time.”

  Adrian pursed his lips for a moment. “Any ideas on how?”

  “You know your team’s resources better than I do. You probably know my resources better than I do. Take whatever you need. If we can’t make it work, nothing else will matter. You need to give them something worth chasing. If you can distract them, we’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Whatever I need? In our spirit of newfound honesty and trust, I must admit I used those two salted hams to feed my men in luxury while we waited in Greenvale. I didn’t need them to build the traps.”

  Gavin said, “Don’t you ever take anything seriously?”

  Adrian smiled. “I take everything seriously. Can’t it be fun, too?”

  He leaned out the door and gave a piercing whistle. One of his men repeated it back to him in the distance. “I’ll keep you informed. I’ll send someone with fresh bandages for my man.” He darted off into the shadows.

  Draken asked simply, “Do you want me to send out runners to the locals and the camp, sir?”

  “I’ll go back to the celebration and ruin the mood for everyone there, myself. Get the message out to everyone else.” It would be a long, sleepless night.

  Adrian dodged around and through swarms of people until he finally found Lindy. She pointed, yelled, and directed what seemed like an angry anthill. He approached in the shadows out of habit before remembering he needed her to notice him. Even after he stepped out into plain sight, he had to wave to get her attention.

  “What can I help you with, Adrian?” It was as if he was her only concern, even amid the chaos and interruptions. How did she do it? Such focus and attention to detail gave her a palpable sense of purpose. If he could learn the tactic, it would complement his other skills.

  “I noticed you had all the wagon spare parts for repairs loaded onto one wagon with a team of oxen. Can I have it?”

  She gawked at him as if she hadn’t heard correctly. “Why do you want to take over the repair supplies? You don’t strike me as the type to corral wagon parts.”

  “Not take over. I want to use them, and then burn them in a glorious funeral pyre. I’ll leave nothing behind but a pile of ash.”

  “I’m sorry, you lost me.” She waved a couple of people past and pointed them in the right direction as she watched Adrian. “We need those supplies. The road from here to the capital isn’t long, but it has some rough spots. Things will break.”

  Adrian grimaced. He leaned in close and lowered his voice for only her ears. “That’s where my job becomes critical. The army will catch up to us before we can get to the capital, no matter how fast we move. I’m going to convince them to chase me instead for a while, to give the caravan a chance for survival. I’d appreciate it if you not spread how the caravan may be nothing but a pile of bone and ash within two days if I fail in my assignment.”

  He hated to manipulate her, playing with her emotions by divulging just the right amount of information. He was in too much of a hurry to convince her it was her own idea to give him the wagon.

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “You know you’re insane, don’t you?”

  “But I’m good enough it doesn’t matter, right?”

  “Sure, we’ll go with that. You can’t have them because they might make all the difference if we have a breakdown.”

  Adrian sighed. He would have to play his trump card. “I may have forgotten to mention this is at Baron Stoutheart’s request.”

  Her lips formed a thin line and her eyebrows lowered. “Fine. Take the supplies, but don’t make me regret it, even if I only live to regret it for two days.”

  Adrian turned to leave, but glanced over his shoulder to ask, “Can I also trade the oxen for two matched pairs of horses? Those I’ll bring back to you.”

  “Yes! Go, before I change my mind. I’ll tell Tover what you’re taking.”

  His next stop was the Richland farrier’s shop. The owner had already left with the earlier evacuation. Adrian slipped in through an unlocked second story window, barely large enough to shimmy through, and packed all the horseshoes he could fit into a bag. He looked around for nails and found none.

  He had no use for the shoes without nails, but searching through boxes and cupboards turned up nothing. Nails weren’t something a person would hide. The farrier must have taken them with him.

  “Splinters. Now I have to make an extra stop.”

  Adrian dropped the bag from the second story window and cringed at the clank it made when it landed. He eased out and dropped to the ground in a roll.

  Within minutes he found Master Smith from Stoutheart Barony and came up behind him. “Hello, Master Smith.”

  The smith spun around with a start. Adrian was only a pace away with his hands spread out and empty. No need to alarm the locals.

  “And who might you be?” Master Smith squinted and reached for a handy hammer.

  “Sorry, I’m Adrian. I didn’t visit Stoutheart Barony’s castle often, but I hear you’re the best smith around.”

  “I’m the only smith around, so best is a given.” The smith lowered his fists a touch.

  “I hate to bother you, but I need a sack of nails. Farrier nails if you have them. Baron Stoutheart has charged me with a special project tonight.”

  “Gavin, eh? He’s a good boy. He used to be a bit of a wastrel, but he’s taken some great strides stepping up as the baron. I’m right proud of him for the improvement. Nails, you say? They’re a rare thing on the trail, but we’re not stopping to build anything, either.” His hands lowered at the mention of Gavin, and he rubbed his nose as he thought.

  “They should be right over here.” Master Smith led the way to a wagon where he hefted a crate that outweighed Adrian twice over. The man was an ox, his arms as thick as a man’s legs. He pulled a much smaller box from the next crate down and handed it over.

  “They’re not farrier nails, but they’re close in size.”

  Adrian flipped the lid off and saw nails as long as two knuckles. “Yes, these will do wonderfully. I can’t thank you enough.”

  He shook the smith’s meaty hand to seal the deal. “You’ll see my handiwork outside of town. I hope I don’t disappoint you too much, but this will be a bit of a rush job. I’m likely to disappoint the carpenters and wheelwrights as well with my workmanship. They may disown me for the sin I am about to commit against both good skills and common sense.”

 
As Adrian walked away from the wagon, he gave out two coded whistles to get the rest of the team headed in the right direction. He met them at the supply wagon, where one of the men swapped the oxen for horses and set up a different yoke to hook all four horses to the spare parts wagon.

  They left camp shortly after midnight with lanterns blazing on the front of the wagon to light the road for the horses as best they could, complementing the moonlight. It was dangerous to ride at night, especially as fast as Adrian pushed them, but it was better than death at the hands of the army. His emergency construction team rode on the wagon behind him. He leaned back and said, “We’ll ride to the first main crossroad about a half hour out and build there.”

  He kept an eye on the stars to track the time. He nodded to himself thirty minutes later, gratified they reached the crossroads when he’d estimated. “Right here to the side of the road. You two, we need shovels and pine branches to smooth out as many of the caravan’s tracks as possible after most of them pass us. Recruit some of the caravan’s stragglers to drag the branches behind them. Cut a small evergreen and tie it behind their last wagon as well. The rest of you, I have a rough drawing here, and we haven’t got much time to build these beasts.”

  He laid out the plans on the seat of the wagon where the torches cast enough light to see by. “Divide up the spare parts. Wheels there, axles there, and leave the lumber in the back since it’s on the bottom of the stack. I have more nails, and the repair tools are in this box.” He pointed as he issued each command. The men swarmed the wagon and pulled supplies out to distribute and stack them as directed.

  “Good. Once we have the two frames built, you can attach the extra axles and wheels. The horses will be used as two pairs rather than as one large team of four. We’ll use the supply wagon for one team, and build a new front axle for the other team.”

  Again, the swarm of men pulled lumber and hammered boards into place based on the rough sketch. The contraptions came together with startling speed as they positioned parts and attached them together with rope and nails. Adrian acquired a hammer and pounded horseshoes onto boards attached to the outside of the wheels.

  Soon they were tweaking the final production. Each team would pull eight axles, most of which had horseshoes attached around the wheels at varying offsets. The wagons would ride like an unbroken colt and wouldn’t last long before falling apart. He hoped they would last long enough to draw part of the army away from the main road.

  Adrian laughed. “Behold, the wagons of doom! Won’t this be fun? Once we get moving, I’ll need a pair of you to watch this crossroad to see how many of them we draw off. Trail whoever follows us and take out their rear scouts. You two with the pine branches, that will be your job since you’ll be here doing cleanup anyway. The rest of you will be with me and the wagons. Walk behind. If you have spare boots, put them on the bottom of walking sticks. Your tracks will be on top of the wagon tracks. It might obscure enough that they won’t see the telltale patterns the wagons will leave.”

  The vanguard of the caravan passed them in the dark as they finished their work. Adrian’s men rested while they watched the caravan hurry past. The caravan wagons carried as many people as possible to gain a little more speed, but there was no way to move everyone quickly. Most of those riding were children unable to walk through the night.

  Adrian waved cheerfully to Lindy as she gawked at the monstrosities created from her spare wagon parts. He yelled out, “Douse as many of your torches as you can from here until sunup. We want them to follow us, not you.”

  Lindy came over and fastened her torch to a bracket on Adrian’s supply wagon. “Like I said, you’re insane. Take care of yourself and your men. I want to hear your tale at a full taproom in the capital. Standing room only.”

  Adrian gave her a bow with a great flourish of his arms. “As you wish, my Supply Mistress. You’re my favorite person—at least until tomorrow. Beyond that, it depends on if you’re buying.”

  When the smith led his wagon past and saw the result of Adrian’s efforts, he raised a bushy eyebrow, shook his head and kept moving.

  The trail of refugees died down, and Adrian sent out shovelers and sweepers to erase as much of the caravan’s trail as they could. They wanted a few tracks to still head forward, but it had to appear as if only a few fled straight while most tracks led off to the side road. The wagons of doom had to look like a significant threat, or they would be ignored.

  A quick survey showed only a few families hadn’t already passed them, so he climbed aboard the reworked supply wagon. “I think that’s all we can do here. Head out, boys.” Under his breath, he continued, “If this doesn’t work, we’ll all be dead soon. But no matter.”

  The city behind them gave off a glow as burning buildings filled the night sky with smoke. His men rolled their creations into the main road to set the start of the trail, then veered onto the path which would loop to the west and back past Richland. He suspected Gavin ordered them to burn the city to buy them a few precious hours. Adrian laughed. If Gavin could destroy an entire city to give people a better chance of survival, he was the right man for the job to lead them.

  The mass of wagon tracks, hoof prints, and boot prints was impressive, though the ride was even rougher than he had anticipated. The two wagons crossed each other’s trail as they rolled so as to break up the patterns they inevitably left for those clever enough to inspect the trail closely. Once daytime came, the risk of discovery would increase.

  An hour into the ride, Adrian called two of his men up onto the wagon for instructions. “It’s trap time. What can you do to their wagons to slow them down as they go past here? Without getting yourselves killed.”

  A straggle-haired older man with only a few teeth said, “Getting a mite picky about getting killed now, ain’t ya? I got an idea. Can we spare a crossbow and two lengths of light rope?” He glanced at the sky, not dark for much longer as the morning constellations shone down on them. “They’ll pass here a bit after sunrise. Dark would be better, but sunrise will do.”

  Adrian dug into the few remaining wagon supplies and handed off the rope. “What’s your plan?”

  The toothless man answered, “Set up a crossbow to fire a bolt through their spokes trailin’ a rope. The other rope will be my remote trigger on the crossbow, so I don’t have to be right there. By the time they can get the wagon stopped, the ropes will be all twisted up in the axle. The longer they don’t notice, the better it gets. Y’all ever tried to back up a wagon with a tied-up axle? They’ll have to either abandon the wagon or cut the knots out by hand to get ‘er running again.”

  Adrian pulled a bag from his belt and tossed it. “Nice. I’ll have to remember that one. Toss a few of these caltrops out on the road before they get there, too. Good luck!”

  Farther along the road, he pulled four more men, cutting his team in half. “Now is when the real fun begins. If they’ve lost their rear scouts and been slowed, this is where we make it hurt. Burn whatever you can of their supplies and get away fast. The rest of us will take these wagons as far as we can and burn them as well. They’re coming apart already, so I don’t think we’ll get too far. Then we’ll loop back to take out any scouts we find on our way back. Once we regroup, we will move in as rear support for the caravan. We’ll be between the two halves of their army, so keep a sharp eye out. Is everybody clear?”

  The men each nodded to confirm their orders.

  “Drinks are on me at the capital when we’re done, unless Lindy is buying.”

  He wondered how many candles he would burn for those killed today. He’d lost one man to the enemy before they evacuated the town and nearly lost the messenger who escaped to warn them. Without their sacrifice, the whole town and caravan would have been overrun. They all knew death was possible, and anyone in the spy business, or in the military, knew fate caught up on occasion, but his men cheered and labored at their tasks with a single-minded intensity that always amazed him.

  “Can you boys
remind me again why it is you follow me? It’s certainly not for the soft beds and gold coins, since we’ve seen neither in an age.”

  One of the men looked up from beside the wagon. “I’d still be in the mines if not for you. What’s not to like about seeing the light of day regularly? Besides, we have a pool on how long we go between crazy ideas. I lost the bet this time.”

  Adrian’s motivation was different. Was Sharise alive still? The baron had used her to get Adrian’s best efforts and had kept them apart for the past two years, except to show Adrian she still lived on each marriage anniversary.

  Every day had been a gift since his pardon, but it was a two-edged sword. He lived each day as if it could be his last, yet he still planned what he would do when he got Sharise back. He also plotted what he would do to those who had kept them apart. Even so, the joy of living was too important to miss out on, no matter if you were serving someone else, or even if you were never free at all. Everything could still work out, so Adrian smiled as he got the horses moving again, drawing the rickety contraptions forward.

  One of the wagons collapsed a half mile short of Adrian’s goal, but it was useless to split up and leave one behind. Once the enemy found either wagon, they would know they had been tricked.

  Adrian’s men unhitched the horses, and then butted the wagons against each other in the middle of the road. He noted the dry grass and considered using a wildfire as a tool, but the light wind wasn’t blowing in the right direction. It made no sense to start a grass fire without good purpose.

  They lit the wagons on fire, parked as a barricade across the road. The smoke would surprise the enemy and make them curious. Adrian’s hope was to draw them even farther forward. The fire would seem to be a last-ditch obstacle to slow the men following them.

  They split up into hunting pairs and scattered. Adrian’s partner was Van, a young man with a short black ponytail and an old leather jacket that had seen better days. They tied their horses on the far side of a hill and crept around to watch for advance scouts as the sun rose. A trail of dark smoke rose from where he had left his ambush team, matching the smoke from his barricade. His men must have set at least one supply wagon ablaze. The smoke was thick enough they might have burned several wagons. If the enemy sent out advance scouts, they should arrive any time now. He crouched down and blended into the brush to wait.