As he watched the waves and the clouds of a half grey sky, Gerid's thoughts returned to those that awaited his return. His mind painted him a picture of Catiya holding his son in the garden behind the Holtein home. Visions of the roses that would still be in bloom thanks to the work of the gardeners would pale compared to the beauty of his family.
Family. He wondered what new plans his brother, Simon, would be working on even as he sailed onward. Whatever they were, Gerid was sure that they would be profitable, but somehow the idea of wealth just didn't seem to matter to him beyond the need of money to pay his men.
Gerid nearly laughed as he realized how his priorities were unable to fully direct him. Getting back to his family was his utmost wish, but the need for revenge on Merrick for the family and friends lost to him previously led him back to needing to leave to win the resources needed to regain his life.
"You're daydreaming again, m' lord," Finneas spoke up from behind him.
Gerid chuckled as he turned to face the elder man, a man that was nearly like an uncle to him in his support. "How many times do I have to tell you that I am not a lord or a god, Finneas?" It was an ongoing joke between the two of them that the elder man call him lord at least once a day.
The captain smiled at the usual counter and replied, "You may not be just yet, commander, but, once you finish the errands for the king, you might be. I may as well keep in practice, don't you think?"
Gerid snorted at the idea. Raising an eyebrow questioningly, he asked, "Do I really look like someone that Colona would make into a lord? I'm a sailor now. I have a fleet. Will he make me a lord of my own possessions or perhaps a lord of the sea? That would be ambiguous enough, don't you think?"
"Lord Gerid of the North Sea? It does have a nice ring to it, sir," Finneas smiled and seemed wistful. "I could see you as a lord. You have a lot of the markings of a good ruler, you know."
Gerid looked at him skeptically, "And what are those, eh? What traits or skills do I have that would make me lord like, Finneas?"
With a twist of a smirk, the older man gestured at the ship and its crew then he pointed vaguely towards the others vessels still in sight. "Think about what you do have, Gerid. With the addition of the new ships and crews that we gathered in Daria, you rule over more than fifteen hundred men in this fleet alone. If you add the men that Simon has serving in your merchant fleet... I lose track of them all, but I would guess that many lords could only wish to have such an army of men, let alone the ships they sail upon. You lead all of them already and I would venture that most would give their lives for your own if you asked them to do so."
Finneas' eyes became wistful as he looked towards the cloudy sky. More clouds had been pushed to the east already. Gerid feared rain would soon be upon them. He hoped that it wouldn't be a major storm.
The elder man continued speaking again, "The things that you do in battle alone could make you a lord in most countries, perhaps even king. You instill fear in the enemy the way you swing that giant axe of yours and most don't even know that you can't be killed. If the enemy did, they would run at your sight immediately. Some do anyway."
"Being a warrior doesn't make you king, Finneas," he interrupted with a sigh.
Finneas raised his eyebrow in questioning protest. "Maybe not where you came from, sir. A lot of kingdoms were started by warriors before being passed on to their sons later though." He shook his head sadly and added, "Some of those made great leaders, at least those who still remembered to care for their people. Their children were groomed for leadership, of course, but sometimes that isn't the way to pass on good traits. Little spoiled princes make little spoiled rulers."
Gerid smiled at the older man and shrugged, "It sounds like you have considered this before. I'll have to remember to make you my chancellor should I ever become king, but, since it'll probably never happen, don't hold your breath."
They stood there for awhile just watching the sky and sea before them. The Vengeance lifted through the larger waves or simply sliced into the smaller.
Vengeance. Gerid thought about the name of his ship. At the time, he had not found Simon. If only Serra had survived, the man thought that he would drop the need to destroy Merrick. The far off lord could do nothing to him here. Even if the lord cared, Gerid could fight back easily enough now, but she had died. So many people had been killed that night. Remembering their loss strengthened his resolve. It would be a somewhat hollow victory should he win. Defeating and killing Merrick would not bring them back, of course, but it would help all those that the king ruled over that were still probably suffering.
"Remind me to send a few spies aboard our trading ships when I get back."
"Spies, sir? To spy on whom?"
"We need to gather real information on the ruler of Marshalla, King Merrick. I have word that he has attacked other countries near to his borders, but that is all I have heard."
Finneas couldn't hide his confusion at the commander's change in topic and the sudden interest in the far off nation’s king. Gerid had never spoken of his quest to anyone in full. Only Simon truly understood his passion, his need to destroy Merrick. Even Catiya knew little of his intentions to bring an army across the water to attack Marshalla's ruler.
He would fight for his sister's memory and those of the friends that were like an extended family to him as he had grown up. Simon would have to get a few deliveries to Marshalla or one of the other North continent's countries. They could hardly challenge Marshalla without any knowledge of the armies they would face. With a little luck, they might even be able to contact Stephen and the resistance for help.
Sighing once again, Gerid wished again that Serra hadn't died. He wished that the horrors his family had faced had never happened. Serra, the man sighed. He was near to weeping at just the thought of his long lost sister.
Gerid never noticed Finneas as he stepped away from his commander.
The young woman strode through the hallway on an urgent errand for the queen. Serra would have felt elegant in the jewels provided by her mistress, if she had worn any real clothing to go along with them. A scarlet scarf tied across her waist was wrapped to cover her slightly, but her young breasts stood defiantly with a diamond dagger pendant dangling from a golden necklace to fall between each breast. A single dagger earring hung from her newly pierced left ear, the pain of it had forced her to forego the piercing of the right for fear of throwing up. Only the sandals with golden laces could be considered true clothing, but despite the lingering feelings of humiliation Serra was beginning to get used to the idea of serving Alyanna this way.
It had been three days of serving the queen, which had consisted of a search of the whole castle to find serving girls for the queen that were at once both beautiful and loyal to Alyanna. Serra had not liked the stares of all the men as they had gone through the hallways. Alyanna had been with her at the time. The two were each other's moral support in these the hardest days of Alyanna's resistance. It was especially hard from the point of needing to humiliate the women by standing among the castle's residents bare of all facades. It was a hard thing to get used to and hard to get other girls to join them because of that fact.
Serra had been surprised that it had taken the queen so many days to find only three more girls besides her though. She would have thought that, even with the absurd actions of the queen, most girls of the castle would have wanted to join her easily. It hadn't been the case, however.
Julia, a servant girl still fairly new to the kitchen staff, had been their first to join. Serra had known her well enough for nearly two months as one of her duties had meant going to the kitchen for Krulir's meals. She had taken her time returning and met the raven haired beauty as she took over Serra's former jobs.
The servant girl had been hesitant at first as most of the young women they had spoken to were. But with a little coercion from Serra and the glamour of serving the queen, the girl finally gave in and followed.
Two others had been found after an
extensive search of the castle. Julia seemed over her initial fears by the end of the second day, she had noted. Phoena, a lovely red head who had actually been covered in grime from working in the soldier's stables, had been hard to find but not hard to convince to drop her work and her dung encrusted clothes. With a long bath and even scrubbing from the other three women, they had finally made her not only presentable but truly a beauty to behold.
The third girl had been brought to their attention from an unexpected source. Laith had informed them that a girl had been given into slavery by her own father at the court on the second day of looking. The merchant had been driven into debt by a bad market and the harsh taxes that Merrick had laid upon him. The man was never wealthy enough to join the guild apparently and suffered the fate that had befallen many others already.
Alyanna had led Serra and Julia to the slave pens. Laith and Aban were joined by a third guard named Taylin for this trip. The slave pens had gathered the reputation of enslaving people too slow to escape at times and it was also on the seedier side of the capitol city where thieves and bullies were said to attack the innocents. The women had been glad enough to find the girl called Adain and leave before the greasy men had been able to lay more than one or two hands on any of their skins. One man had tried hard enough to lose a hand to Taylin's sharp edged sword.
The girl had been worth the effort, both Alyanna and Serra believed. Once she had been taken into the castle and been given a warm bath. The girl's talkative nature slowly began to come through. A lovely little blond with sparkling green eyes and good sense of humor, Adain had a figure to set any man's heart afire. She would have surely fallen into dangerous male hands at the auctions.
The others seemed trustworthy enough to Serra, but this day a task had fallen to her that the queen had felt only she could be trusted to handle. With Laith to guard her, Serra had been sent out of the castle to the soldier's barracks and offices. Alyanna had learned that a well respected lieutenant of the Cadmene cavalry had been injured enough to be returned to Hala's infirmary. Serra had been given a message to bring to the officer in the hopes that he could get word to Alyanna's brother, Relnar.
The pretty little blond shivered as dozens of soldiers from the practice yard eyed her revealed form. Serra tried not to look at them even as she could feel the warmth of a blush rising from her chest into her face. The girl hoped no one would notice. Perhaps it would be mistaken for a bit of sunburn.
Finding the sheltering hallways of the infirmary, didn't mean the attention was over unfortunately. Now heads began to turn as more of the doctors and wounded watched her entrance. The blush was subsiding as Serra regained her composure. A doctor with a grey beard and bald pate clothed in the grey of his order walked over to confront her before she could go too far. To her, it was almost like watching a pair of eyes and hands moving towards her from a stormy cloud.
"Young lady, what do you think that you are doing here and naked yet?" he demanded gruffly. His eyes betrayed that her beauty wasn't missed, just ignored by the old man.
"I am here on behalf of the queen, doctor. I need to see Lieutenant Baitrum."
The doctor looked at her discerningly. "He is still recovering from his wounds suffered in Maris, girl. I don't want to disturb his recovery. Go back to your queen and leave the medicine to me." He waved her off and started to turn in dismissal, but Laith was too quick for that and reached out a restraining hand. The doctor looked from hand to soldier's face angrily.
Laith was first to speak, however, "She is from the queen, so, if the man is not dying, you will lead us to him, old man, or you will need some attention yourself. This girl is the queen's chief assistant. To defy her, is to defy the queen."
The doctor took in the thinly veiled threat and shrugged the hand from his sleeve. "I had heard rumors that the queen had gathered a few naked harlots to her service. I just hadn't believed it," his sneer ended quickly as the back of Laith's fist sent the man sprawling to the floor. Stunned and disoriented, the doctor lay there trying to figure out what had happened.
Placing a hand on Serra's back to move forward, the queen's guard signaled another man of the order to them. Closing his mouth as he recovered from shock, the second doctor came forward. Serra repeated her need and this man led her there directly.
The lieutenant sat up slowly at the sight of Serra and her guard, though she thought that maybe he still hadn't gotten past her to Laith just yet. "I am Serra, the queen's servant. She has sent me to speak to you."
The man smiled from beneath a cloth wrapping that hung low enough to cover his left eye and cheek. "I thank the queen wholeheartedly for that consideration," his smile moved to a grin.
Serra couldn't stop from returning the smile with another blush. Laith laid a hand on her shoulder to remind her to speak. The guard's presence was a problem that the queen worried over, so the girl turned to him and asked him to step back and act as guard from the foot of the bed. Moving to the head of the bed, Serra knelt down on the floor so that she could speak quietly. "Lieutenant, I am not a gift for your amusement. The queen has sent me for an important reason."
The man's face sobered quickly and he nodded though the movement seemed to cause him a little pain for the effort. "I had gathered that, miss, but might I ask why you are here like this?"
Thinking of an answer quickly, she replied, "You know that the queen does not love the high king, correct?" At another nod, which brought his hand up as if to catch his head before it fell off, she continued, "She has gathered a few women to her that she can trust and has asked us to dress this way to disrupt the castle by our mere appearance. That is not the reason that I have come though, or at least not the whole reason."
Pulling a folded envelope from the scarf where the paper had been tied to her hip, Serra passed the note to the soldier. "Read this a moment. Then we must burn it. If this were to find Krulir's hands or the High King's..." she left off the threat that both knew could happen to those who defied the ruler of Marshalla.
The lieutenant quickly read the words on the parchment. His face grew grave a moment before he turned to place the paper into the flame of the lamp beside his cot. Baitrum smiled at Serra as the last of the ashes sank into the glass surrounding the sides of the lamp.
The girl started to stand, but the soldier gripped her right wrist firm enough to stop her. It wasn't a painful touch, but Serra looked at the man worriedly. Her eyes strayed to Laith whose hand was straying to the hilt of his sword. "Could you please stay a little longer and talk with me?" Baitrum asked quietly.
His look still seemed mischievous, but she wondered if he wasn't sincere in his request. Serra didn't smile, however, and the young beauty tried to pull her arm free once more. "Release me, if you wish to keep your hand attached to your wrist," Serra stated without anger.
The lieutenant caught the glint of metal as Laith slowly began to draw his weapon. There was only about six inches showing, but Baitrum recognized the threat well enough to release her. "I didn't mean to anger you," he started to apologize.
The girl shrugged and noticed his eyes drop to her breasts with the motion. "I am not angry yet, but, if you continue looking at my chest, I will be," Serra replied through firmly clamped teeth. The beautiful blond hated to be looked at like an object and was getting angry at the rude attention.
To her horror, the man reached towards her breasts quickly. Starting to draw away in fear, Serra felt him lift away the dagger pendant. Raising a hand to halt Laith's steps, she noticed his intent gaze falling on the diamonds. "Lieutenant," she began.
"I hadn't noticed this for what it is," the man whispered so that only Serra could hear, though the words weren't truly meant for her ears either. Baitrum set the pendant back between her cleavage gently and looked into her face. "I can't believe that I didn't see the pendant for what it is."
Serra looked at him questioningly. Maybe the man had nodded one too many times with his head injured as it was. Seeing the look in her eyes, he smiled s
hyly, "It was a gift from my family to hers years ago, you see. When she turned sixteen, my father and mother gave it to her as a tribute to our cousins."
"Cousins?" Serra whispered in surprise understanding immediately.
He nodded and winced again. "I should have known that Alyanna would trust this only to family. There have been other Cadmene knights wounded enough to return here over the last months. She could have picked another long ago."
Serra shook her head, "I think that her plans are newly conceived of, lieutenant. It may just be a coincidence of sorts."
Baitrum smiled and shook his head, an equally painful maneuver apparently for him as he groaned with pain. "No, I think that she has been looking for the right time to do this. I gather that much from her note as well as the fact that I know my cousin better than you, miss." The man sighed and lay back down. "I guess that I should have you leave that I might heal better. The queen needs me healthy."
Serra rose almost glad to leave. The hospital wasn't a place that she liked much. The girl kept worrying that she would step in some unmopped blood, since it fairly reeked with the odor in the hospital. The lieutenant sat up once more to ask, "I wasn't lying when I said that I was glad to have you visit. Perhaps you could return sometime and tell me your name."
Serra smiled politely and walked away from the man without giving in to the barely dodged question.
Chapter 29- Barroom Brawl
The taking of Maris wasn't going as Merrick had planned and the furniture within the High King's tent was suffering his wrath for all the good it did him. The king turned to face his two generals. Behind them stood a trio of mages looking equally cowed.
Gritting his teeth, Merrick snapped, "Can anyone explain to me what has happened here?" Without interruption, he continued, "We defeated Cadmene and Sileoth in a single season each and lost very few of our men and now...," the High King kicked over his thick wooden chair so hard that a shaving of the wooden backing splintered off the corner of his table. There were other notches in both table and chair from past tantrums, but the generals would hardly dare to interfere with their lord's ranting. In fact, they could sympathize with their lord this time, since they felt much the same way.
The High King: A Tale of Alus Page 29