Although in many ways Darian was sincerely naive, in matters of war, he had been taught to be cautious. The knight locked his gaze on the young soldier and asked the Eilian to open his eyes. His motives were pure, he was no enemy.
“Cut him loose,” Darian said, nodding toward the young man.
“If you're sure,” Kilren replied, drawing a dagger as he spoke.
“I am.”
Somewhat to the band's surprise, several more soldiers and a handful of city guards decided to join their cause and fight for the safety of Innalas and the restoration of Solarin.
For his part, Willrak asked for an hour to discuss the situation more fully with the younger men of the town before they came to a decision. The request was instantly granted. During this debate, the prisoners were moved to the village inn, where they could be safely kept under guard without the necessity of being bound. Most of the women of the village made use of the time to gather up supplies for the rag-tag army of Solarin. At the end of the allotted hour, the discussion was ended, the provisions gathered, and the prisoners attended to.
The moment the blacksmith and several the younger men of Rakklin reached the inn, Willrak spoke.
“Most of us have decided to join you,” he said, stepping toward the knight.
“I'm glad to hear it, Sir Willrak,” Darian replied, reaching out to take the young man by the wrist. “We can use all the help we can get. I know it wasn't an easy decision to make.”
“No, it wasn't,” the smith agreed. “But I think it's the one my father would have made if he were alive today. Although most of us have done well enough for ourselves living under King Palnar, we have to try to stop him; whether it's possible or not. If we left the people of Innalas to stand alone, after all they did for our parents and grandparents, I don't reckon we'd be able to sleep too soundly from now on out.
“Plus, we figure that even if we lose, the king can't hang us all. There's a good chance he'll limit his vengeance to his former soldiers and people like me. So, all things considered, this is probably just as safe a course of action as any other we might take and it has the advantage of being the right thing to do.”
“That it is, lad,” Ian agreed.
“Now that the decision's been made,” Willrak said, “what's our next step?”
“We haven't come up with one yet,” Darian replied. “We wanted to see what your reaction was before we made any plans.”
“I can see that,” the smith nodded. “It could have easily gone either way, in my opinion.”
“That was how we felt,” Gregor replied.
“Well,” Willrak said thoughtfully, “it strikes me that we're going to want to give the lads some kind of occupation as quickly as possible, as well as prevent Lord Merclan from sending for help. It's the grace of the Eilian that he hasn't sent more men already, but my guess is that he figures the captain has the situation well under control. That can't last much longer, though.”
“What do you suggest?” the dwarf asked.
“That we besiege the castle,” the smith replied.
“I believe that might be a little overly ambitious,” Gregor said with a wide smile, “but I have to say, I admire your spirit.”
“I have no lack of that,” Willrak replied with a nod, “but I'm not a fool, either. I don't mean that we should actually try to take it. Not by force, anyway. Although, I suppose that might be possible. The lord sent a large force marching out of town two days ago. So, the garrison's not nearly as strong as it usually is. Especially considering the fact that we've captured close to thirty of those he had left to hold the castle.”
“Even so,” Kilren said, shaking his head, “I can't see trying to storm a fortress with an army of farmers. All we're likely to do is get them slaughtered.”
“I agree,” Willrak nodded. “However, his lordship is more of an administrator than a warrior. In fact, I expect there's a real chance he'll hand the place over to us if we can make him believe we're capable of taking it by force.”
“I'm not sure how we could convince him of that,” Kilren observed. “We're not exactly a regular army.”
“No, we're not,” the smith replied. “But there are over two hundred of us, for all that. Lord Merclan doesn't exactly have a reputation for unrestrained valor. It may be that with a little persuasion, he'll see things our way. Or it may be that he won't. In either case, I think it would be best to be doing something before the lads start getting restless. The last thing we want is for them to think that you don't have a plan.”
“Aye,” the dwarf replied, “that's a fair point.”
“Then, let's do it,” Darian said. “If nothing else, it will keep the men occupied long enough for us to come up with another plan.”
The makeshift army was quickly armed with what tools and weapons could be found and, although there were far more scythes than swords among the band, they were soon as martially prepared as the supplies of the village could make them. While the citizens of Rakklin were thus equipping themselves, Ian took the opportunity to replace his horse with a pony, to his almost immeasurable delight.
These preparations made, the Telian and his companions took the lead, the former Mikralian soldiers marching a short distance behind them, and the villagers bringing up the rear in a formation that could only be termed: a mob. The castle was just over a mile from the village and the army of Solarin reached it in just over half-an-hour.
The acting officers of the band did their best to get the group into some kind of military formation as the knight and his companions, including Sir Willrak, approached nearer the fortress.
“Who are you and what's the meaning of all this?” shouted one of the soldiers standing watch on the walls the moment the party was within earshot.
“I am Sir Darian Calmar, Telian Knight and Knight of Solarin. This fortress and the lands surrounding it are the ancient property of the House of Rallin, currently placed under the guidance and protection of Sir Willrak Galford by his grace King Calmon. I demand that you open the gates and surrender the castle to our forces immediately. I guarantee the safe conduct of you, your allies, and your lord back into the lands of Mikral and will even offer an escort to ensure your safety if such is Lord Merclan's wish.”
“I'd better get the lord,” the guard said, before vanishing from the walls.
Minutes later, the relatively short and heavyset form of Lord Merclan appeared upon the battlements. By this time, the villagers, along with the few soldiers who were with them, had arranged themselves, as best they could, into what almost appeared to be a military force.
“Which of you claims to be Sir Darian?” the lord demanded.
“I am, Sir Darian, my lord,” the knight replied with a slight bow.
“You're a Telian Knight?”
“I am.”
“Who is your master, boy?”
“Lord Andor.”
“Then, I've heard of you,” Lord Merclan said with a nod. “What is your purpose here, Sir Darian?”
“I've come here to reclaim the lands stolen by King Palnar and restore them to their natural lord, Sir Willrak Galford, by authority of Calmon Rallin, King of Solarin,” the Telian replied.
“I might find this amusing, young man,” the lord replied, “if it weren't in such poor taste. The House of Rallin was completely destroyed over twenty years ago during a rather unfortunate war.”
“You're incorrect, my lord,” Ian replied, “Many members of that noble line are alive and well and living in the lands of Innalas.”
“Or so you claim,” Lord Merclan replied, shaking his head. “I certainly have no way of knowing whether or not what you say is true. Even if it were, these lands were taken by conquest long ago. They belong to King Palnar and, as his humble servant, it's my duty to defend them in the name of Mikral.”
“Just as it's our duty to reclaim them in the name of Solarin,” Darian replied.
“Do you think such a course of action is fitting for a Telian Knight?” the lord
asked, gazing down at the young man. “I can't imagine that the Eilian approve of your leading a group of dissidents here in some feeble attempt to steal lands from their natural lord.”
“Such has not been my course of action,” the Telian replied, shaking his head. “The Eilian know what my motivations are, as well as what my actions have been. When the time comes, their judgment will show me whether I was in the right or the wrong. For the moment, however, it's my sincere hope that we can resolve this situation diplomatically. If not, I have to ask you to consider yourself under siege.”
“People of Rakklin,” Lord Merclan shouted, completely ignoring the Telian's last statement, “I'm not certain how these people have deceived you, but I'm willing to extend mercy in this case. If you disband now, we'll act as if none of this happened. I'm even prepared to forgive my own wayward soldiers. Whatever lies these people have told you, I'm sure they must have been compelling.”
“Well said, my lord,” Willrak replied. “Unfortunately, we can't disband yet. In fact, we won't be able to do that until the war with Innalas is ended. We've had more than enough of bloodshed and war.”
“What do you think this will lead to, Sir Willrak?”
“Well, there's no need to spill blood at the moment,” the smith replied. “If you'll open the gates, you and your men will be well treated and any of them who want to join us, yourself included, will be more than welcome to.”
“You'll hang for this, Willrak. I hope you realize that.”
“So, you won't open the gates?” the smith asked, gazing up at the lord.
“Not while there's breath in my body!”
“Suit yourself,” Willrak replied. “Prepare your men, Merclan.”
The party turned and made their way back to their allies.
“That didn't go as well as I'd hoped,” the smith said with a sigh.
“It went as well as we could have expected,” Gregor pointed out. “Even with the relatively small force he has, he'd be able, under normal circumstances, to hold the castle against a force such as ours. He just doesn't realize how unusual the circumstances are that he's found himself in. Gwendolyn, do you think you could destroy the gates?”
“I'm fairly certain I could,” she replied after a moment's consideration.
“Once they're out of the way,” the young lord replied, “we'll be able to overwhelm the garrison with sheer numbers.”
“How could she do that?” the smith asked.
“She has her ways,” Kilren chuckled.
“Well, Lord Merclan certainly wouldn't be expecting it,” Willrak, replied thoughtfully. “Still, I'd like to avoid a bloodbath if at all possible. His soldiers are well armed and experienced. A frontal attack would probably lead to massive casualties on both sides. That's not likely to be good for morale. Especially since a fair portion of the garrison were born and raised in Rakklin.”
“Then, what do you propose we do?” Gregor asked. “Unless we can convince Lord Merclan to surrender, it’s going to come blows eventually.”
“That's exactly what I'm thinking,” the smith nodded. “So, the best idea would be to get him to surrender.”
“Which he doesn't seem very inclined to do,” Kilren pointed out.
“Not yet, he doesn't,” Willrak agreed, “but he may feel differently in a few days’ time. We'll be able to keep him from getting a message out while you do your best to bring us more help.”
“Where would you have us go to get that, lad?” Ian asked.
“Lord Jannus,” the smith said. “He's an honorable man, and was a Solarin noble long ago.”
“I know of him,” the bard nodded. “He was one of the last of the Solarin lords left standing against Mikral.”
“He was,” Willrak replied. “In exchange for his surrender, he was given a Mikralian knighthood.”
“That sounds a little mercenary,” Kilren observed.
“It wasn't, lad,” Ian replied. “Solarin had fallen by that time. As a Knight of Mikral, he was able to maintain control over some of his lands and continue to care for his people.”
“He's also been a very good friend to my father and me,” Willrak continued. “Lord Jannus helped me get my apprenticeship and bought me my shop once it was complete. I'm sure he'd have done even more for us if my father had been willing to let him.”
“Then he sounds like a man we need to talk to,” Kilren said with a nod. “And, the sooner, the better. Who knows how long we'll have before word gets out that we've got Lord Merclan holed up in his own castle.”
The entire party agreed with the lieutenant's assessment and, just minutes later, they set out on their way. Although, in reality, they were traveling through enemy territory, there was little chance of being discovered. Most of Mikral's forces were either in, or on their way to, the kingdom of Innalas. Those who remained behind had no way of knowing that a small force of Solarin soldiers were in the land, attempting to start an uprising. As a result, their journey was totally uneventful.
During the roughly twenty-four hours the trip took, Kilren and Erana discussed a number of different topics which always seemed to lead back to their eventual engagement and the fact that they really needed to discuss a few things with Ian before they spoke with her father again. Ian and Jalek talked a great deal about politics, magic, and Baldorin. Darian and Gregor spent the trip debating what their next course of action should be, contingent on how Lord Jannus decided to act, while at the same time doing their best to say gallant things to Gwendolyn. The maiden did what she could to stoke the smoldering coals of competition between the two young men, being careful not to offer one too much encouragement or the other too little.
These attempts were not nearly as successful as her earlier ones had been, however, as the minds of both the knight and the lord were almost completely occupied by the task at hand. Gregor would forget to speak to her for half-an-hour at a time and then suddenly give her some random compliment, trying to cover up the fact that he'd forgotten her. Darian, not at all surprisingly, was even worse, only remembering her because Gregor had, and offering her meaningless flattery that she was basically sure he had memorized out of the book. The pair decided to take third watch together to discuss several strategies together in detail while she was left to 'get a good night's sleep', as Darian had put it.
What little fire seemed to be left in the coals of their admiration for the maiden were completely snuffed out as they drew near the stronghold of Lord Jannus. The two chattered on without interruption on exactly how they should go about requesting his help, and how far they could trust his honor during a parley. This left the maiden free to silently consider the inconsistencies of men and how easily they were distracted from the most important things in life by the merest trivialities.
The moment their destination rose into view, a small piece of white cloth, which Ian had tucked away in one of his saddlebags, was tied to the top of Sir Darian's spear, temporarily replacing the banner of Solarin which had, until then, been flying from it. This preparation made, the party slowly made their way toward the thick stone walls that surrounded the fortress of Lord Jannus. They waived their makeshift flag of truce as they approached and demanded to speak to the lord. After a brief exchange with the guards and a few minutes wait, they were informed that they would be granted an audience and the gates were opened.
“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Kilren asked quietly, as the party gently kicked their mounts into motion.
“Is what a good idea?” Darian asked in reply.
“Riding into a castle packed with enemy soldiers,” the lieutenant whispered.
“They're not our enemies at the moment,” the knight replied. “We're under a flag of truce. They're honor bound not to harm or detain us until our parley is complete and we're once again at liberty.”
“I know that,” Kilren said, shaking his head. “I just hope they do.”
“And, I hope that Lord Jannus is as honorable as we've heard,” Gregor added.
; “Exactly,” the lieutenant agreed with a nod.
A small escort awaited the party just within the walls. The oldest of these men, who served as their sergeant, asked the party to follow him and led them quickly into a wide courtyard. In the center of this sat the keep. The building was three stories high, roughly forty feet wide, nearly twice as long, and sealed by a large pair of steel doors which, at the moment, stood quite open. In spite of the martial nature of the structure, it was an elegant building that spoke of its owner's taste and affluence, as well as his military power.
The Telian and his companions were asked to dismount as the steward descended the stone steps that led up to the keep. They followed this guide into the structure, the interior of which was almost lavishly decorated; suits of armor, weapons of war, and tapestries of the finest workmanship all hung from the walls. Darian contrasted the opulence that met his eyes, as they were led up two beautifully crafted wooden staircases, with the more martial simplicity of his own fortress home. The stronghold of Lord Jannus was undoubtedly the more splendid of the two, but the young knight felt he somewhat preferred the simple elegance of Lord Andor's residence.
The party was led into a large hall on the third floor. A long, wide table filled most of the chamber, at the end of which stood a low dais, on which the lord of the stronghold sat on a seat of dark wood, covered with intricate carvings of various wild animals and cushioned in red velvet. As the Telian and his companions approached, the old man rose from his seat and strode to the end of the platform. He was dressed in military attire, his plate-mail armor covered with the tabard of Mikral and a sword hanging from his side.
“Welcome, Sir Darian,” Lord Jannus said with a stately bow. “How can I be of service to the protégé of my old friend?”
“Thank you for seeing me, my lord,” Darian replied with a bow of his own. “I didn't realize you knew Lord Andor.”
“I did,” the old man smiled. “Long ago. When both he and I were quite a bit younger. Many a year has passed since the two of us took the field together, however. Still, that is very little to the current purpose. What is it I can do for you?”
The Lords of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 3) Page 18