Defender of the Crown

by Paul J Bennett

Raising his sword, he held it briefly in the air.

  "For the Saints!" he called out.

  "For the Saints," came the echo. The line started moving as he swept his sword down.

  It began as a trot, closing the distance at what felt like an agonizingly slow pace. He knew he must preserve their horses' strength, for their tactics demanded it. Charging in at the last moment, they would engage the enemy in quick combat, then withdraw, hoping to lure them out. An unformed enemy was a gift to the experienced horsemen of the Kurathian Isles, and Lanaka couldn't help but smile in pride.

  The enemy, seeing the Mercerians for the first time, halted their advance. A few riders raced back and forth along their line, presumably making reports. Lanaka could make out an enemy standard, though he was unfamiliar with Norland heraldry.

  Here, the ground inclined, forcing the Kurathians to ride uphill. It was a disadvantage, of course, but it would give them a much needed boost when they feigned their withdrawal.

  They drew closer to the enemy until Lanaka could make out distinct faces. When he saw the Norlanders lowering their visors, intent on battle, he raised his sword high into the air. Now was the moment, he thought, now was the time to give it their all. Behind him, a horn sounded, drawing his men's eyes to him. Lowering his sword, he aimed the tip directly at the enemy standard.

  The Kurathian horses, released from their enforced trot, galloped forth, rapidly increasing their gait. He watched the enemy as their faces revealed surprise at the disciplined charge.

  Lanaka could tell the Norlanders were inexperienced in such warfare, for their horses were spaced out too unevenly. He aimed for a gap, then forced his way through, slicing out with his sword as he rode past, allowing his mount's mass to add power to his attack. His sword struck true, scraping along a Norlander's arm, and then the Kurathian flicked his wrist, lest the blade sink too deeply.

  Sweeping past his target, he reached the second line, thrusting the tip of his blade into an opponent's face, striking bone. Lanaka withdrew and quickly repeated the action, his new foe falling backward and toppling from the saddle.

  Once again, Lanaka ignored him, pushing farther in and seeking out a fresh target. All along the line, his men were doing the same, shredding the first line, sending the Norlanders into confusion.

  When their horn sounded a second time, Lanaka turned, galloping back through the now decimated front ranks, swinging as he went. Spotting a riderless horse running about, he angled towards it. As he drew closer, he scabbarded his sword, and then reached out, hanging low in the saddle to grasp the creature's reins. Sitting back up, pleased with his prize, he turned south, back to where the rest of his men waited. The Saints had smiled on him this day, though he knew it was only a minor wound to the enemy.

  Slowing to a trot as he regained his lines, Lanaka passed off the captured horse to an aide, then swept his sword up and down, signalling the second line to begin its charge.

  Finally, he halted, turning to watch the carnage as he took a sip from his waterskin. The second rank eventually fell back, then a third surged forward, but Lanaka noticed their efforts were less effective. The enemy had learned to adapt, and such a tactic would not work again.

  When the third wave returned, he ordered them to turn around. A few Norlanders rushed down the hill intent on repaying the damage, but the Kurathians were used to such challenges. A dozen of them turned, then charged forth, easily cutting down the invaders. Their duty complete, they wheeled around in perfect unison, riding south to rejoin their compatriots.

  "It is a fine day," said Caluman. "The Saints have blessed us."

  "So they have," agreed Lanaka, "but let us not take it for granted. The Saints help those that help themselves. We have bloodied the enemy, but our tactics will not work a second time. Let us return to Mattingly. We have an evacuation to see to."

  "Surely not," said Caluman, "we must fight them the whole way."

  "We are mercenaries no longer," said Lanaka, "but members of this new realm of ours. As such, we must protect our countrymen. Their safety is now our concern."

  Caluman grinned, "As you wish, Commander."

  * * *

  Kargil yawned. Guarding the Hawksburg Circle was not the most exciting thing for an Orc, and yet he was determined to represent his tribe to the best of his ability. He walked down the ramp, eager to wake himself from his weariness. As a young hunter, he had come to this Human city only three months ago, unsure of what to expect. For centuries his people had been at odds with the Humans and yet here, in Hawksburg, they had found common ground. He smiled as he thought of Humans and Orcs working together to rebuild this city. What would his Ancestors think?

  The room lit up with a soft glow as one of the magic runes was activated. Kargil's pulse quickened, for this meant that someone was arriving, the first such time this had happened while he was on duty. Another rune glowed, then two more. He stepped back, waiting for the spell to complete.

  When a cylinder of bright light shot upward, it forced him to shield his eyes. For a brief moment, he felt as if the air was alive with a thousand bees, and then it abruptly halted. Kargil lowered his hands to see a small group of people within the circle. He immediately recognized Lady Aubrey Brandon, but the others were not known to him

  "My lady," he said, using the greeting he had been taught.

  "This is Queen Anna of Merceria," the mage responded, "along with her maid, Sophie, and Tempus, the hound."

  Kargil's eyes widened. So this was the famous warrior queen! "Your Majesty," he said, bowing clumsily.

  "Where is Kraloch?" asked the queen.

  "He is not here, Majesty," said Kargil. "He has gone to Wincaster with most of the hunters."

  "Why?" asked Anna, a worried look on her face. "What has happened?"

  "I do not know," said the Orc, "for I am but a humble hunter."

  "Who commands in his absence?"

  "Sir Preston," said Kargil. "He arrived late last night."

  "Take us to him," she commanded.

  Kargil bowed, then led them up the ramp. It was only a short distance to the new manor house, and before long, they were within its walls, warmed against the chill of the day.

  "I shall get him," announced Kargil, leaving them alone.

  Anna looked around the room. "I should have spent more time in Hawksburg," she mused. "Tell me, how has the city been recovering?"

  "The rebuilding has been proceeding quickly," said Aubrey, "though the winter snow will soon be upon us, slowing our progress."

  "Have the people enough shelter?"

  "They have," the mage replied. "It was our first priority. Many of the townsfolk are living in temporary quarters, but we expect to have housing for them by next summer. The real challenge will be getting crops in the ground next spring."

  "How can the crown help?" asked the queen.

  "We will be short of seed, Your Majesty. Most of what we had was carted away by the king's army during the war."

  "I shall call upon our mages to travel the land," said Anna. "We can buy seed elsewhere, then use your magic to bring it here."

  The door opened, revealing Sir Preston. The knight bowed gracefully.

  "Your Majesty," he said, "we weren't expecting your return for some time. I take it all is well?"

  "No," said the queen, "all is not well. We were attacked in the Norland capital. I'm afraid many of our people are still there."

  "I am sorry to hear that," the knight replied, "for we have had problems here in Merceria as well."

  "Kargil told us that many of the Orcs went to Wincaster," said the queen.

  "Yes," Sir Preston agreed, "to suppress a rebellion, but we had advance warning of it."

  "I take it we were successful?"

  "I haven't heard back," said the knight. "They only left early this morning."

  She turned to Aubrey. "How soon can you return us to Wincaster?"

  "I'm afraid I used most of my energy bringing us here," said Aubrey. "It will be some tim
e yet."

  "We could have horses made ready," offered Sir Preston.

  "No," said the queen, "it would take days to ride there. We'd be better served to let Lady Aubrey rest. Would you be ready to recall by this evening, Aubrey?"

  "I should think so, Majesty," replied the mage.

  "Good, then let us rest and replenish our strength, for I fear the next few days are going to be taxing."

  * * *

  They were eating dinner when the messenger arrived, a horseman covered in dust and looking exhausted.

  "Sit," commanded the queen.

  Before sitting, he handed her a letter. Anna opened it carefully, reading it over twice before passing it to Aubrey.

  "News, Majesty?" asked Sir Preston.

  "Sir Heward reports a large invasion at Wickfield. They are falling back to our present position."

  "An invasion?" said Sir Preston. "Surely not?"

  "You forget, Sir Preston, the Norlanders are unaware of Lady Aubrey's recall spell. They think they have me, prisoner, in Galburn's Ridge. I rather suspect they wish to use me as a hostage."

  "Along with our marshal," said the knight. "But we must have other military commanders?"

  "We do," said the queen. "We are blessed in that way, but still, this invasion is ill-timed from our perspective. It has caught us unprepared."

  "What are your orders, Majesty?" asked Sir Preston.

  "It will take some time for Heward to withdraw to Hawksburg. In the meanwhile, Sir Preston, you will have to organize our defences as best you can."

  "Is there any indication of how large the Norland army is, precisely?"

  "Sir Heward cannot tell for sure, but he estimates there may be as many as two thousand, most of them mounted."

  "Two thousand riders?" said Sir Preston. "I didn't even know they had that many horses."

  "Yes," said Anna, "they seem to have been preparing this for some time, but that may work to our advantage."

  "How so?" asked the knight.

  "Cavalry is not particularly effective against prepared defences," said the queen, "which means we should remain safe here in Hawksburg."

  "Does this change our plans?" asked Aubrey.

  "No, we must still return to Wincaster, even more so now that we know what's coming. First, we must secure the capital, then find Baron Fitzwilliam. I will need his counsel."

  "In that case," said Aubrey, rising from the table, "I shall retire to rest and restore my energy."

  "Very well," said the queen. "In the meantime, I will inspect our defences." She turned to her maid, noting the look of shock still on Sophie's face. The young woman was pale and trembling, sure signs of what she had just been through. "What about you, Sophie? Would you care to accompany us, or would you like to rest?"

  Her maid appeared wracked with indecision. It was Sir Preston that finally brought her out of her state by stepping forward and holding out his arm for her.

  "I would be delighted if you should decide to accompany us," he said.

  She looked up at him, her face softening. "Very well," she said, a smile creeping in.

  The queen rose, turning to the messenger. "Thank you for your prompt delivery. Stay and rest yourself. I'll have the servants prepare you something to eat." She looked around the room, then under the table. "Come along, Tempus, we've work to do."

  The great dog let out a bark that echoed off the walls.

  Twenty-Three

  Escape

  Fall 964 MC

  * * *

  "We can't hold out much longer," said Arnim. "The next assault will overrun us. We'll have to try to fight our way out."

  They had barricaded the corridors and were holding out in the guest quarters of King Halfan's castle. Three times the Norlanders had tried to overrun their position, and each time they had been beaten back. Now, their enemy appeared content to wait, hoping to starve them out.

  "I will not abandon our people," said Gerald, "and we've few enough fighters amongst us."

  "Then arm them," Arnim persisted. "Better to die fighting than starve to death."

  "We have no spare weapons," Gerald reminded him. "I don't like it any more than you do, but we are at an impasse."

  A crack of thunder echoed in the distance.

  "More rain," said Arnim. "At least we'll have plenty of water."

  "It could be worse," offered Beverly.

  "Worse?" grumbled Arnim. "How could it possibly be worse?"

  "It could be snowing," she suggested.

  He stared at her, preparing a reply but then changed his mind. Instead, he whirled around and marched off, muttering, "I've men to see to."

  "You seem in remarkably good spirits considering our predicament," said Gerald.

  "I'm just following your example," she replied.

  "Mine?"

  She laughed, "I'm just pulling your leg, Gerald. We've been in tougher spots than this."

  He looked at her in surprise. "We have?"

  "Certainly, remember the drake we fought in Tivilton?"

  "That was different," he said. "We didn't have civilians to look after."

  "Civilians," she repeated, "an interesting term."

  "It refers to people that are not warriors," he explained.

  "I'm fully aware of what it means," she responded, "but when you say it, you sound just like my father."

  "I could do worse," he said.

  She smiled, "So you could. Now tell me, what's the plan?"

  "What makes you think I have a plan?"

  "I know you, Gerald. You're not one to give up so easily. You've got something going on inside that head of yours. Are you going to share it with me, or do I have to wheedle it out of you?"

  He looked around the hallway, taking in the men holding the barricade. "Not here," he said, "let's talk privately."

  He led her into one of the bedrooms that lay empty, then sat on the bed.

  "We are faced with a number of problems," he explained. "Care to guess what those are?"

  "Well," said Beverly, "the most obvious one is that we're hemmed in here with no food."

  "Correct," said Gerald.

  "Arnim obviously thinks we should fight our way out."

  Gerald paused a moment. "Let's say that we manage to fight our way out of this hallway, then what?"

  "Then we make our way cross country, back to Merceria."

  "And how do we do that? Think carefully, Beverly."

  "We head south," she replied, "that's where the border lies."

  "And what is the terrain like?"

  "Mostly flat," she paused, the problems falling into place. "We'd be easy to pick off."

  "Precisely," Gerald said, "but that's not all. How do we get our horses back? We don't even know where they are."

  "They're somewhere in the castle," said Beverly.

  "I doubt that's true at this point. They likely moved them out of our reach when they attacked. We honestly have no idea at all where they might be, and without them to scout terrain or watch for Norland soldiers, we'd be sitting ducks."

  Beverly frowned, "So what you're really saying is that you don't have a plan?"

  He smiled, "Don't look so glum. I have the beginnings of a plan, I just need more time to piece it together."

  "Tell me what you have so far."

  "Galburn's Ridge sits at the west end of a line of hills," Gerald said. "We came here up that steep incline."

  "I remember, it was a switchback path. We'd be easy to pick off going back down."

  "Yes, but there are hills to the east."

  "And a large lake to the south, if you remember," said Beverly. "How does that help us?"

  Gerald leaned forward, warming to the task. "We came up the western shore of that lake. I'm proposing that we travel east, across the hills and then come down the eastern shore of that same lake."

  "We don't know the terrain," she warned.

  "True, but as long as that body of water was in sight, we'd be able to navigate our way."

&nb
sp; "Through unknown hills?"

  "I'm not saying it wouldn't be dangerous," Gerald continued, "but the hills would at least give us some protection from the Norlanders."

  "Fair enough," said Beverly, "but how do we get out of the castle to begin the journey?"

  He sat back, letting out a deep breath of air. "That's the part I haven't figured out yet. Do you have any ideas?"

  "Can't say that I do," she admitted, "but neither can I stand the thought of leaving our horses behind."

  A soldier interrupted them from the doorway, "My lord?"

  "Yes?" said Gerald.

  "Someone is calling for a parley," the man said.

  "Thank you, Conner, we'll be there directly."

  Conner nodded his head. "Yes, my lord."

  Gerald winced as the man disappeared from sight.

  "Something wrong?" asked Beverly.

  "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to this 'Lord' business."

  Beverly laughed, "Don't worry, Gerald, I'll make sure your head doesn't swell."

  "It's good to know I have someone I can count on."

  "Everyone here feels the same way," she said. "They trust you to see us through this."

  "I wish I had their confidence," Gerald replied.

  "We'd best be seeing to that parley before they change their minds."

  "I suppose you're right," he said, rising to his feet.

  They stepped from the room, back into the corridor. Down at the northern end, they had piled chairs and tables to form their makeshift defence. Six of the queen's foot guards stood watch, crouched behind cover while occasionally peeking out over its top. Beverly led the way, her youthful steps far quicker than Gerald's. Conner was crouched by an upturned table.

  "He's just over there," the man said, pointing.

  "Here goes nothing," said Gerald. He straightened his back, exposing his head to potential enemy arrows.

  "Speak," he commanded.

  "I would speak in private," came back a familiar voice.

  He looked down to Beverly, who was still crouching.

  "Do you recognize him?"

  "Sounds like Lord Creighton, the Earl of Riverhurst," she replied.