The Crown and the Sword

by Doug Niles

  The scent of soot and brimstone coated every breath, and the stench only grew stronger as he made his way across the muddy compound toward the scene of the previous evening’s disastrous experiment. He found Dram and Sulfie already there. The pair was poking listlessly through the scattered debris, lifting the charred timbers that had forged the long tube of the bombard. Here and there were bits of the iron straps that had held those boards together.

  “Pete wore a ring—it was on a chain around his neck,” Sulfie said, choking back tears as she stared at the tall lord marshal. “Our Pap gave it to him, and he always wore it. But it wasn’t on his body—it must have gotten blown off when he was killed.”

  “I … I offered to help her look for the ring, first thing this morning,” Dram admitted. “But it don’t seem to be around here anywhere.”

  Jaymes shook his head understandingly. “Not much chance of finding it, I suppose. But why don’t you have a work crew come up and comb the place, at least for the rest of the day. Maybe it’ll turn up before we have to get back to work.”

  “Yeah, I was kind of hoping you’d want to do that, soon as possible,” Dram said. He regarded Jaymes cautiously, his eyes hooded and the expression on his face further concealed by his bristling beard. “Anyway, I already ordered them to come up.”

  The marshal nodded, leaning down to pick up one of the broken brackets. “Perhaps we should use stronger steel?” he asked, turning the shard over and over in his hand.

  “More of it, certainly,” Dram said. “Thicker bands and twice as many. But that’s Kaolyn alloy—you won’t find a stronger metal anywhere on Krynn. And the lumber we used came from ironwoods, so that can’t be improved on.”

  “The only solution is to make it bigger, then?”

  “Bigger and heavier, aye,” the dwarf acknowledged. “This one weighed a bloody three tons, so Reorx only knows how big the next one will have to be to avoid”—his eyes took in Sulfie, still sifting through the wreckage—“accidents.”

  “Maybe we—” Jaymes stopped suddenly and spun on his heels. His eyes narrowed as he studied the shadowy doorway to the long warehouse where the logs were stored.

  “What is it?” Dram asked. He followed the direction of the marshal’s gaze and huffed as brightness flashed within the dark shadows. “Humpf! I mighta guessed,” the dwarf said sourly, addressing Jaymes. “But how did you know she was going to pop into sight all of a sudden?”

  “I got a feeling,” the lord marshal said with a shrug.

  A mist of sparks whirled momentarily in the shadows of the doorway, and the White Witch was standing there. Her alabaster robe reflected the dim light with the purity and luminance of a sunlit glacier. Her long dark hair was unbound, flowing around her shoulders, the dark strands still a little brittle from the lingering effects of her teleport magic. Her lips, usually so full and warm against the gentle oval of her face, were drawn into a tight line of concern.

  She stalked toward them. The hem of her robe occasionally brushed the scorched, sooty ground, but somehow the white material stayed perfectly clean. Sulfie was gaping at the wizard in awe, her troubles momentarily forgotten, while Dram edged forward to stand next to Jaymes. Coryn was still twenty paces away when she began speaking angrily.

  “You must get back to your army right away,” she declared. “There has been a development.”

  In blunt terms she described the attack of the monstrous elemental king, the damage wrought, and the danger created by the breach in the city’s defenses. “I fear that if you don’t counterattack at once, it will be too late. Even with all haste, I am afraid.”

  If Jaymes was dismayed or upset by the news, his voice showed no emotion other than agreement and determination. “I presume you have the means to move me swiftly, without a horse, sparing me a four-day ride across the plains?”

  She nodded.

  “Very well.” The marshal motioned to the dwarf, who grabbed his arm as he turned to go.

  “I’m coming too,” Dram said. “I mean, take me with you! You need me!”

  Jaymes turned back to Dram and Sulfie. “No. I badly need you, it’s true, but not on the battlefield. There is no time now. You are going to have to move the Compound. I want you to pack up the workers, the raw materials, everything. Buy every wagon you have to—that probably means every wagon in the west of Solamnia. Head east. I want to set up operations in the shadow of the Garnet Range, as near to Solanthus as possible.”

  “But … we … we can’t just move the whole Compound!” Dram spluttered. “Everybody lives here! All the dwarves of Meadstone are here. And the logging—”

  “Dwarves can move, the same as buildings. Remind your workers they’re being well paid and will continue to be well paid. As to the logging, you can set up lumber camps in the Garnet Mountains just as easily as the Vingaard range. And you were telling me the steel comes from Kaolyn. This will put you that much closer to the alloy.”

  “No, it’s crazy,” Dram persisted, shaking his head. “I don’t see how it can be done. And there’s Sally, and Swig. I mean, they’ll have objections—”

  “I want this done,” Jaymes said coldly. “I want it done without delay. Sally and Swig can come along, or they can stay here and wait for you to return. But I need you and your operations, I need the black powder, and I need the Compound to be closer to the action. Now, I want your promise to get going on this—right away!”

  “All right, all right.” Dram’s voice was an angry growl, and his eyes all but flashed sparks as they shifted from the marshal to Coryn.

  Sulfie had watched the exchange, her eyes wide, still moist with tears. Now she spoke hesitantly. “But … what about … what about Pete’s ring? It’s out there somewhere!” She sniffled plaintively as she swept her hand across the blackened circle of soot, the wide scars from the previous day’s explosion.

  Coryn looked at the black swath as if seeing it for the first time then turned toward Jaymes and raised her eyebrows reprovingly.

  “An experiment that failed,” he said curtly.

  “And we will take the time to comb the wreckage,” Dram said bluntly. He rested a hand on Sulfie’s shoulder. “We’ll find your brother’s ring. And we’ll give him a hero’s wake.” The dwarf lifted his head and looked at Jaymes with a challenging glare. “That’s the least we can do here. And after that, then we’ll get ready to pick up and move.”

  The warrior regarded his old friend for a moment then nodded. “I’m sorry about your brother,” he said to Sulfie with unusual feeling before turning back to Coryn.

  “Take me back to the army,” he said.

  “We’re going to force the river crossing at every ford, first thing tomorrow morning,” Jaymes informed his generals after startling them at their breakfast with his teleported arrival. Coryn had appeared with him, but—knowing her presence made the knight commanders uneasy—she swiftly withdrew to a small tent to “tidy up.” The marshal wasted no time in issuing his orders and putting his generals on alert.

  “It will mean an all-night march to get the men in position,” Markus warned. “At least, if you want to cover more than ten or twelve miles of river. And then we’ll be attacking with exhausted troops.”

  “There’s nothing that can be done about that. And I do mean to cover much of the river, stretching Ankhar so thin he can’t hope to hold us everywhere. I want an attack at every crossing spreading over twenty-five miles in two directions—in effect, a fifty-mile front. General Dayr, you take the north flank. You’ll have to cross by boat, since there are no suitable fords there. It’s imperative you get started under the cover of darkness—that means I’d like to see you get moving less than twenty-four hours from now.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Dayr replied grimly. “Should I get the boat companies on the march immediately?”

  “Yes, do so.” As the general of the Crown Knights hastened to give the necessary orders to his subordinates, Jaymes turned to the other two wing commanders. “Have any of the bridging
companies arrived from Palanthas?”

  “The first came in just this afternoon,” Markus replied. “I understand there are two more on the way, but they still must be several days out.”

  Jaymes nodded, thinking. “General Rankin, you will command the middle. There are three fords that should be passable. Make simultaneous attacks at each, and try to force a bridgehead on the east bank.

  “And Markus, you will take the south wing. There is one ford I believe you can use, but I want you to supervise the bridging company as well—post it north of the ford, where they won’t be expecting us to cross.” The first bridging company was a unit of the lord marshal’s own invention, a wagon train of pontoon boats and plank sections. They had practiced extending a temporary span across a wide river and had met with considerable success, but the tactic had never before been attempted in a combat situation. “Make your attack at the ford first, and see if you can take them by surprise with your bridge. I will see if I can get you some kind of concealment for your activity.”

  “Very good, my lord,” Markus said. He sent a runner to get the bridging company on the march.

  General Dayr returned, and Jaymes spent another hour making specific dispositions, speaking with the quartermasters to make sure the wagon trains of food, fuel, and arrows were dispatched with all haste. He spoke to the captains of two score companies, impressing upon them the urgency of the relief mission. He described the appearance of Ankhar’s new, powerful ally, and the desperate straits in Solanthus. By the time he was finished, the camp had become a frenzy of activity, with tents being struck, corrals dismantled, horses and oxen haltered and prepared for the march.

  Only then did Jaymes return to Coryn, who was waiting patiently beside the muddy patch of ground that had, a quarter of an hour earlier, been the command compound in the midst of neatly arrayed tents. “Once you make up your mind, things happen pretty fast,” the wizard noted wryly as a column of Crown Knights thundered past them, and three files of pikemen formed up for a rapid march to the north.

  “By evening tomorrow too many of these good men will be dead,” Jaymes said. “They know it—we all do—but no one hesitates when battle is necessary.”

  “You’re the only man who could bring all these knights, these soldiers, together,” Coryn said. “And I know the crossing will be dangerous. But it has to be done.”

  An advance team of boatmen trundled past, a caravan of five horse-drawn wagons. They, and others like them, would ride toward the major crossings, carrying bundles of canvas and strips of supple wood. Under the cover of darkness they would assemble hundreds of boats in a single night.

  The heavy bridging company also got under way, rolling south in a separate wagon train, carrying long pontoons and sections of planking. Their goal would be to establish a usable span across the river in the next twenty hours.

  “Send for Sir Templar,” Jaymes barked to a nearby courier. In a few moments the cleric-knight appeared, out of breath and red faced, before the army commander.

  “Yes, my lord!” he cried, extending a salute and standing rigidly at attention. “I await your orders!”

  “At ease,” Jaymes said. “I want you and your apprentices to go with General Markus—to the south. Stay with the bridging company. When they start to put their pontoons in the water, do whatever you can to help conceal their work—whether it be fog or darkness or some kind of invisibility spell. Many lives will depend on those bridging sections reaching far across the river before the enemy takes note of them.”

  “But.…” Templar looked stricken, then immediately stiffened again. “Yes, my lord! As you wish! We will do whatever lies in our power.”

  “I’m sure you will. And understand, there is no time to waste.”

  “Certainly, my lord! Yes, of course!” Templar stood still for another beat then seemed to realize he had been dismissed. With a salute, the Clerist spun about and hurried away.

  “Do you think they’ll be able to help?” asked Coryn.

  “We’ll know better tomorrow. But they’ve been riding along with the army since we moved north from Caergoth, eating our food, preaching the creed of Kiri-Jolith to whoever happens to be within earshot. It’s time to find out if these cleric-knights can be any kind of real asset to this army.”

  The white wizard’s face went pale and her eyes moist as she watched another company, mostly young swordsmen from the northern plains, march past. They were singing a battle song, though several of the soldiers—mere boys, really—looked almost faint with fear.

  “War is such a terrible business,” Coryn said, a catch in her voice.

  “Yes. We’ll lose a lot of men,” Jaymes said. “But by hitting them in so many places at once, I expect we’ll find a chink in Ankhar’s defenses somewhere. Once we find that chink, the knights will pour through.”

  “But Solanthus is still nearly fifty miles away,” the wizard pointed out.

  “We’ll march as fast as we can. One column, a steel fist that will smash any of Ankhar’s defenders out of the way.”

  “Even so, it will be costly,” she said quietly.

  “What would you have me do?” he demanded, his tone growing sharp. “We’re bound by certain restrictions—and the speed an army can march is one of them!”

  “Dammit!” she snapped back. Her dark eyes bored into his for a moment until she sighed and looked away, turning toward the east. “Yes, you’re right. I’m angry at myself—all this bloodshed.”

  “It’s a fact we must deal with it and move on.” He grimaced and shook his head. “I do wish we knew more about this monster, this king of the elementals. If I could see it, observe it, I would have a better grasp on how we might make war against it.”

  “There is one thing we can try,” Coryn said. She sounded strangely hesitant, and when she looked at the marshal, her eyes had softened. There was fear, there, but it wasn’t fear of danger or death.

  “What’s that?” Jaymes looked away, studying the troops as a company of horse archers trotted passed.

  She bit her lip nervously then spoke. “I could try to teleport you into the city. You would have a chance to do something there that no one else can do because no one else possesses your courage … or your sword.”

  “Are you suggesting Giantsmiter could slay this elemental king?”

  “No, not slay it. I doubt that anything can slay it—it would be like trying to kill the very essence of the world. But I have been reading a great deal of history. The gist of it is that your sword was created by Vinas Solamnus, but he had the help of a mighty wizard. It might just help you to learn something crucial about the elemental, to discern some weakness, some way we might banish it back to its lower plane.

  “By pointing your sword at the being and staring into its eyes, you might be able to read its mind. It’s a dangerous strategy—reading the thoughts of other beings is a frightening experience under the best of circumstances. But if you can stand before the elemental and study it while you point your sword at it, it is possible you could perceive some weakness, some frustration of the beast that you might be able to exploit.”

  “If it doesn’t kill me first,” he noted.

  “If it doesn’t kill you first, right,” Coryn agreed.

  “And how do I go about this?”

  “You must stand before the creature. And try to get a look at its eyes, drawing the monster to look at you. If you concentrate, listen carefully, you’ll get a sense of its intentions, its fears.”

  “I’ll try,” he said without hesitation. “My generals can command their wings and win this battle. I myself will go to Solanthus and find the elemental,” he said. “Can you send me?

  “It’s not quite that simple,” she demurred. “You know about the Cleft Spires, of course?”

  “The big split mountain, in the middle of Solanthus? Sure.”

  “Well, it is a rock with powerful magical properties. Ever since the siege began, the wizards of the city have used it to block teleportation mag
ic. This is to prevent Ankhar’s Thorn Knights from sneaking into the city or sending assassins, saboteurs, and the like into its midst. Their magic makes it more complicated to send you there.”

  “Is there any way around their magic?”

  “I think I can circumvent it, when the white moon is high. Solinari is full tonight, so I will send you when he reaches his zenith in the skies. Perhaps you want to get some sleep first.”

  “My troops aren’t sleeping tonight; I won’t either. But that will give me time to write out orders, send detailed plans to the generals.”

  “Very well,” Coryn said. “I’ll prepare the spell. And I’ll enchant your ring, the one I gave you years ago. You will have one teleport spell, so you can get out of the city when you’ve accomplished your mission.”

  “I thought you said teleportation doesn’t work in Solanthus?”

  She shook her head, like a tutor impatient with a slow-learning pupil. “The barrier keeps people from teleporting in. There is no restriction on leaving—in fact, I have been visited by wizards who have come from the city. It’s one way I’m able to keep aware of what’s happening there.”

  “All right. Let’s do as you say, then.”

  Twelve hours later, all but the last remnants of the army had abandoned the camp on the west bank of the Vingaard. The troops were advancing toward their planned crossings under the milky light of a full white moon. Jaymes stood alone in that same moonlight, and Coryn calculated the passage of time.

  Finally, she cast the spell. Magic swirled around Jaymes Markham. He felt the pull of the magic, a world whooshing past. He saw the walls of Solanthus and recognized the Cleft Spires outlined in the cold moonlight. Disorienting sensations surrounded him, surging through his gut, dizzying him so much that he could barely see. He sensed the nearness of his obstacle and wanted to reach out and bring himself to ground in the city.