by JW Webb
Outside, the walls of Wynais glistened with wintry sunlight. So much for her dawn reveille; Ariane could tell morning was passing swiftly into afternoon. But that was well, for the Dreaming had brought her father back, if only for a moment. She drew comfort knowing he was watching her, despite his woeful state and doleful warnings.
Ariane dressed swiftly into her leather trousers and tunic and long black boots. The maids returned and hovered like moths until she bade them away again with a stiff sharp wave. She sipped the sweet tea and stuffed the bread and cheese between her teeth. Then, after another slurp, Ariane vacated her room. Outside in the corridor, Silon was leaning languid against the wall reading a parchment.
“Cancel the council,” she snapped at him without explanation. Silon nodded, passed her the parchment, and turned on his heels.
“And tell Valentin and Tarello I would speak with them soonest.”
“Good morning to you too, my Queen,” Silon waved an acknowledging hand as she vanished around a corner, a half smile on his lips. Little surprised the merchant these days.
As she strutted through the corridors, Ariane glanced down at the note. She briefly scanned the contents, got the gist, sighed, and after a moment’s hesitation, Ariane ceased her strides, took a long deep breath, and decided to return to her room.
She would read the letter at leisure whilst waiting for her generals. Ariane returned to her room, ordered more tea, and sat back with note in hand. She read the contents slowly and digested every word.
Ariane folded her arms and smiled at the youngest maid before bidding her depart again. Despite her Dreaming and throbbing head, she felt good. Confident. The note was from Caswallon to his new commander, Gonfalez. The name meant nothing to Ariane. Silon hadn’t got the chance to explain to her that Valentin’s rangers had intercepted the messenger whilst surveying the enemy army camped less than five miles from the city.
They’d done well. The note was short and concise and easily recognisable as being written in Caswallon’s whispery hand. Kelthara—always a thorn in Caswallon’s side—had erupted in violent revolt. A Groil battalion Perani had sent there weeks earlier had been extinguished and the “rebels”—the last surviving king’s men - were openly defying the sorcerer. Ariane saluted their bravery.
Caswallon’s orders to his new man were for Gonfalez to leave a skeleton force guarding Wynais whilst his main army return north to mop up the rebellion. Gonfalez was to meet with the Groil who had been scouring the Kelwyn countryside for months but had now set up camp just south of Whitestone Bridge. These were to accompany him north across the bridge. The combined force would destroy Kelthara, then turn south again for Wynais.
Ariane was on her third mug of tea when Captains Valentin, Tarello, and Jaan arrived puffing into her room. Galed and an excited Cale, whom the queen had not invited into her chamber, shortly joined these generals. Nevertheless she bid these two take seat and be silent.
Last up, Silon slid in with a man she didn’t know, but she could see he was one of Belmarius’s surviving Bears. He looked tough and dependable, and Silon announced him as Garland, new leader of the Bears.
“How many are out there?” Ariane demanded of Valentin, who shrugged.
“A lot. Maybe twenty thousand?”
“And we have?”
“A quarter of that number. Further, their forces will be bolstered by Groil, their whole force bar a few heading north to Kelthara. At least that buys us time,” Valentin said.
“No.” All heads turned when Ariane stood and walked over to gaze out on her city. “We have no time.” Silon smiled, but everyone else looked puzzled.
“Surely it’s good news the enemy is withdrawing.” Galed sipped tea and blinked at his queen. He had been so relieved hearing about Kelthara, and now hoped they would have time to regroup and get their strength back, but now it looked like his hopes would be quashed.
“They will return stronger, with Kelthara broken and all Caswallon’s will on taking Wynais. Whereas —”
“If we strike first and aid Kelthara, we might just turn the tide and catch Caswallon off guard.” Silon smiled at the queen who nodded back.
“Aid Kelthara? You mean to ride north into the sorcerer’s jaws?” Tarello’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “Valiant proposal but reckless, my Queen.”
“Not if we’re smart.” Ariane turned from her perusal to face the people gathered in her room. “Gentlemen, the Dreaming visited me again last night. I won’t discuss that here. But know this, after reading that letter, I knew exactly what must be done. This is a gift my leaders! We must seize it!”
They exchanged uncertain glances. The four captains looked tense, Silon wryly amused, Galed concerned, and Cale enthused. Everyone awaited her next word.
“General Valentin,” Ariane’s dark gaze rested on the Ranger, “when do we expect this Gonfalez to withdraw? And how many troops will he leave behind?”
Again Valentin shrugged. “My scouts report from your walls that he’s disbanding his camp even now, so I expect they will move out tonight under cover of darkness, leaving enough visible to threaten these walls. Say two thousand, disguised to look like many more? Hard to be sure, but’s that’s what I’d do. I do not know this Gonfalez, but let’s hope he’s less experienced than Perani.”
“Certainly he’ll want to impress his master,” Ariane nodded. Caswallon hadn’t sounded impressed with Gonfalez thus far. The letter had threatening undertones to its recipient.
“Whitestone Bridge,” Ariane smiled at her gathering, “that’s our key to unlock Caswallon’s plans. As most of you know, the bridge lies in a deep gorge spanning the River Kelthara. A perfect place for an ambush were one able to spring it.”
“That it is,” smiled Valentin, “and close to the enemy’s old camp just south of the border.”
“Where Gonfalez is heading to meet with the Groil,” Ariane nodded. “Once that’s done he’ll enter Kelthaine.”
“Unless we stop him!” Jaan grinned at Valentin and now Tarello was smiling too. Silon remained nonplussed as did the hard-looking Garland. Galed still looked worried, and Cale just appeared puzzled and slightly out of his depth.
“A hundred archers could cause mayhem in that gorge, and later on the bridge. We could repeat our success at Greystone Bridge in the south. This second battle of the bridges could free Kelwyn!” Valentin looked excited now.
“Slow down gentlemen. That last victory was due to Zallerak’s firework display,” Silon cut in with a curt wave of hand. “Whitestone Bridge is another matter. It’s certainly achievable. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This needs finite planning and our timings must be spot on.”
“It does,” Ariane agreed. “I’m thinking you Rangers, Jaan’s archers and lancers, and anyone else who wants to form our guerrilla attack force, should slip out of the city about the same time Gonfalez departs from here. Get ahead of him and stay well hidden, then wait for our main force at the gorge.
“Then at dawn, my army rides out with myself clearly visible. We crash through their weakened cordon and ride full tilt for Whitestone. It will take this Gonfalez a while to gather those Groil into that old camp, so we should have time to cross the bridge and await him on the other side, our Rangers and archers already in place. What say you gentlemen?”
After an hour of further discussion, Ariane left them to their thoughts. She had one last job to do before making preparations to leave the city. And not an easy one. Deep in thought, Ariane strode briskly down to where Tamersane was quartered in the rooms below hers.
***
Teret sat cross-legged on the floor whilst her lover gazed out the window at the bustling city below. She was calm and wore an easy smile whenever he glanced her way, which wasn’t often. Teret didn’t speak—no point. Pain will out. She loved Tamersane and was prepared to let him work through this anyway he could.
The guards outside were kindly to her, asking to report to them should she or her lover require anything at all.
One informed Teret there was a big council meeting due tonight; rumour was the queen was planning something major. Teret had hardly listened to him, but grunted thanks for the food and wine he’d brought them.
A knock came just before noon. The guards filed in with Queen Ariane between them. “I’ve a job for you, cousin.” The queen’s tone left no room for argument.
Tamersane didn’t respond, nor did he avert his absent scrutiny of the city below. Teret stood and glared hard at Ariane. “He needs rest!” She snapped.
“No, he needs purpose, Teret.” Ariane bid the young woman sit and let her continue. After a moment’s hesitation and more glaring, Teret nodded and took seat by the window, her good arm around her lover’s waist.
“Tamersane!” The queen approached the window and stood beside her cousin.
“What?” Tamersane did his best to ignore her.
“Valentin’s rangers ride north tonight. You, cousin, are going with them.”
Tamersane shrugged indifference, but Teret rose to her feet and confronted the queen. “He needs rest and solace after what he’s been through. You do not own him, Queen Ariane!” The guards looked shocked hearing the Rorshai woman’s tones, not used to their queen being addressed in such a way. But Ariane bid them be easy and wait outside.
“Tamersane,” Ariane’s dark eyes were on Teret. “You are my second cousin and I love you—always have. Not as Teret here loves you, but as an old friend and your queen. I do not like seeing you like this. You are a better man than he who stands here moping. What happened, happened. We cannot change that.”
“I killed my brother—that’s what happened. I am cursed, Ariane.”
“Crap! I’ll not hear such defeatist bollocks. Self-pity is not worthy of you, cousin. I, your queen, expect more from you. Shape up man! This Rorshai woman adores you and deserves only the best from you, so stop bloody moping and get into gear! I expect you ready for battle ere nightfall.”
Tamersane sniggered slightly and turned to award his queen a wry look. “You expect too much, Ariane.” The queen ignored him and instead placed a hand on Teret’s shoulder.
“A word outside would be good.” Teret nodded and, after glancing briefly at her lover, departed the room after the queen. Tamersane watched the women leave with a scowl on his lips. At her word, the guards left Ariane alone to speak with Teret. The Rorshai woman leaned against the wall as the queen folded her arms and faced her square on.
“We two need to be friends,” Ariane said. “I know Tamersane of old, Teret, and if he stays here he will drink himself stupid and most likes come to a bad end. He is a joker but harder on himself than he lets people think.
“He needs action and purpose. Without those he is lost—hence my demanding he ride out with those Rangers. If I were thinking of myself, I would let him remain safe in this city. But that would be selfish, as I know he would wallow and soak in drink and depression. That way would prove his ruin.”
“I wouldn’t let him,” Teret challenged, but Ariane shook her head kindly.
“You wouldn’t be able to stop him, try as I’m sure you would. Please forgive me, Teret, I can see, clear as a pikestaff, how much you love Tamersane, and he is lucky to have you, and added to that it gives me joy that you have each other. But I’ve known that boy a long time, and I know I’m right in this.”
“I don’t have a choice—do I? You being queen and all?” Teret half smiled, thinking of her home across the mountains and how different things would be there.
“No, you don’t. But I’d rather you be on my side, an ally if not a friend.”
“Only on one condition.”
“And what is that?” Ariane’s eyes narrowed.
“That I accompany Tamersane on this venture.” Teret looked hard into Ariane’s eyes. “Where he goes I go, Queen. We Rorshai women are a match for any man, and this you do not control.”
“Agreed. And I’ve no problem with women fighters, Teret. I am Ariane of the Swords after all. Now, I’m away and I leave it to you to get Tamersane ready. For if he is not, I’ll have the guards carry him down to the barracks and strap him to his horse.”
“That will not be necessary.”
“Good.” Ariane flashed Teret a smile and yelled for the guards to accompany her back to the courtroom, where her captains had retired to confer and plan.
Late that night, as Gonfalez’s force broke up and marched north, Valentin’s scouts reported back to him. Then, at an opportune time, the Rangers and Raleenians trotted out under the cover of moonless drizzle.
Among them were the cloaked and hooded figures of Tamersane and his lover Teret. It hadn’t taken much convincing on her part.
“If you are a man you will do this thing, and if you are not then I have no need of you.” Tamersane had given in on hearing that. Rorshai women were not party to nuance. What is, is. Enough said.
***
General Gonfalez watched as his riders filed in double columns along the dusky road. It was cold, and a raw drizzle snotted noses and chilled bones. Despite that, Gonfalez was content. Here was his big chance. He’d screwed up in letting the little queen enter Wynais. He should have pounced on her earlier, but it had proved so difficult to keep up with Ariane in the mountains. And then that confounded fog!
She had been lucky—again. But her luck was about to run out. Gonfalez knew Kelthara well and liked it not at all. Keltharans had always considered themselves above their rivals living in Kella City, despite that being The High King’s residence.
They were a queer lot, aloof and proud. Those few nobles that survived Caswallon’s purges had fled there, and somehow managed to stay alive, despite the many assassination attempts and Groil raids in that city.
And now they had risen up against the sorcerer! Utter madness! But Gonfalez had to admire their courage, stupid and desperate as it was—a few brave men defying the lightning. And the lightning was coming fast. He, Gonfalez, formerly of the Tigers stationed in Kella City, was leading the storm that would destroy Kelthara resistance once and for all.
After that, Caswallon would have cause to be grateful to him. Then would Gonfalez’s reign of glory commence: the sorcerer would see what his new general had done. And then would come the hour for the final and total destruction of Wynais and Kelwyn, and the huge rewards that would flow to him.
Perani’s campaign had failed completely. Gonfalez’s murder of his former general wasn’t only driven by ambition. He had been frustrated with how things had gone. After Derino had failed at Calprissa, Perani had lacked direction, and the Groil creatures had been wasted instead of used to bolster their ranks. Those Groil needed strong leadership. They hadn’t received it. Instead most had wandered through the deserted villages salvaging and picking at anything they could find, the inhabitants already long gone.
So it was with a high heart Gonfalez led his army away from Wynais and deep into the gloomy night. He’d left scarcely a thousand men behind, deeming it necessary only to show movement and steel to any watching from the city walls.
In the chaos and arrogance of their scurrying, noisy departure, none of Gonfalez’s people noticed the small detachment of riders leaving from the rear city gates and racing north ahead of them, soon lost to night.
Just before dawn, with the old camp barely two miles ahead, Gonfalez reined in in sudden alarm. A rush of wings above, vast and drumming. Looking up, he and his soldiers were witness to the dragon passing high overhead. But Vaarg paid them no heed; his business was up in the mountains, where his old master had summoned his urgent assistance.
Shaken by the sight, Gonfalez arrived at the abandoned camp and bid those stationed there strike tents and ready for the return north. Groil arrived in dribs and drabs throughout that arduous morning. Meanwhile, Gonfalez fretted at the time wasted.
At last, by mid-afternoon they were ready. His army bolstered by over a thousand Groil, Gonfalez cut across country toward Whitestone Bridge, which carried the road over to Kelthaine.
As they rode, fresh snow settled in the fields to left and right, and a chill wind croaked from the north. Gonfalez’s vanguard was nearing the end of the deep wooded gorge that opened on the bridge, when a cry of warning behind saw him glancing up at the slopes on either side.
Ambush!
The rain of arrows was hard and fast and the confusion it caused terrible. A man fell to Gonfalez’s left, two more to his right. He growled deep in his stomach, dropped his visor and urged his beast gallop on toward the bridge a half mile ahead, his army panicking and rushing behind their general.
The archers emptied their quivers and fled the slopes fading like ghosts into the woods above, and then, unbeknownst to Gonfalez, they joined Queen Ariane waiting calmly with another group of bowmen at the north side of the bridge.
Gonfalez reached Whitestone Bridge and reined in, astounded to see Queen Ariane, a sword in each hand, surrounded by fighting men, these lining the north bank for many yards at either side.
Incomprehension and rage surged through Gonfalez’s veins. He didn’t hesitate. The bitch queen had stolen a march on him too! No matter, he would crush her like the festering tick she was. Gonfalez survived his reckless charge across Whitestone Bridge but many of his best captains didn’t.
By the time they gained the northern end of the bridge, Queen Ariane’s army was racing north, vanishing along the snow-covered road to Kelthara. Gonfalez, raging, spitting, and chewing his moustache, urged his army gather and regroup at the northern end. Once that was achieved, and whilst ignoring the dead and dying, he led his force north at speed in hot pursuit of the queen. Gonfalez smiled as the battle rage filled him; Kelthara and Queen Ariane—he would destroy them both inside a day. She had played into his hands after all.
Chapter 26
The Fight at the Gates
Barin hardly noticed the urgent tug at his waist. He looked down squinting at the young girl grinning impishly up at him. “I’m a messenger,” Sorrel said puffing out her cheeks. “From Shallan Duchess.”