Fire And Ice (Book 1)

by Wayne Krabbenhoft III

  “Did you say something?” Alys asked her absently.

  “What? No. I was just thinking.”

  “Hmm,” the girl replied obviously caught up in her own thoughts.

  That night Renly was not present, and the next day he rode nearby, but the set of his face was serious and he never approached her. Whatever Martin had said did the trick. She only hoped that the Commander was not too hard on him.

  Over the next few days they passed the large town of Whent and traveled the well maintained highway that would lead them to Stockton. The sky had gone from completely clear to mostly overcast. Light flakes fell about them for about an hour, but that was all.

  In the towns and villages they passed people came out to watch them ride by. Some of the older residents nodded in approval at the Knights while the children pointed and watched in fascination. There were more women than men and some of those faces held the fear of wives and mothers who had men in harm’s way. Those were the looks that haunted her for the rest of the journey. She was reminded that the men who fought had families, wives and children, and she was the one who led them. She was the one responsible for them. She kept her face neutral and told herself that it was Elthzidor’s fault, and the Destroyer’s. The men of Midia did not ask for this.

  They bypassed the high walled city of Stockton to continue the few remaining miles to the river and the camps of the army. The encampment was spread out over a vast area, it was a virtual city of tents. Fortifications had been erected all around the camp. A low wall of earth ran around the perimeter and before that ditches had been dug and filled with sharpened stakes. It was a necessary precaution in case the enemy slipped across the river somehow. It also gave the soldiers something to occupy themselves during the long wait. A camp full of idle men trained to fight and coming from different kingdoms could be a volatile situation.

  Where the road ran up to the defenses they were met by Lord Roland. He was dressed in gray from head to foot, all except for the red fox on his chest. His black hair lay flat across his head as if he had been wearing a hat, or a helmet, recently.

  “Did you know we would be arriving today?” she asked him as her horse came to a stop.

  “I have scouts out as well as you,” he replied. “I came to see you and to make a suggestion.”

  “Of course. Suggest away.”

  “You should wear your crown and ride at the head of the Knights.”

  “For ceremony?” she asked. She thought she understood why, but let him explain anyway.

  “Morale is not bad, but anything that might give them a boost would help.” He shrugged. “Seeing the High Queen ride in with the Knights of Soros should be just the thing.” “Very well.” She held out her hand to Alys who rode up next to her and handed over the circle of gold. She placed it on her head, adjusting it to make sure it was straight. She looked at Roland and spread her hands. “Am I impressive enough?”

  “I think you will do,” Roland smiled and inclined his head to her. He turned his horse to fall in behind hers.

  “I think you overestimate my motivational abilities,” she commented over her shoulder.

  Roland laughed. “The guards of Summerhall have been spreading the tale of their warrior Queen all over the camp.”

  She turned around to look at him in surprise.

  “It is true,” he assured her. “They told everyone about your bout with the Commander of the Soroson Knights.”

  Facing forward again she shook the reins and dug in her heels lightly. The black stepped forward. “At least it is better than being called the Prince of Summerhall,” she said quietly to herself. “Warrior Queen indeed.”

  Katelyn took the lead, her unbound wealth of black hair blew out behind her like a thing alive. Martin and the two banner men rode directly behind her with the sun banners billowing out so as to be clearly seen. They continued on the road past orderly rows of tents where men sharpened swords and polished armor while sitting around smoking cook fires.

  Men looked up from what they were doing and saw them pass. Slowly the roadway became lined with more men in uniforms of many colors as the word of her arrival spread. She saw many in the blue and gold of Summerhall, a few wearing the Hawk of Tyelin. She spotted the red steer of Wyndham, the orange and green of Darbonne, the black thorns of house Harthorn, and many more. She also saw a number of colors belonging to Westland Lords including the three red stars on a field of yellow and blue that was the symbol of Westhaven and house Tenrell. There were also a few men bearing the yellow sunburst of Kluele, and here and there another sign of a Taragosan Lord. They all looked to her and to the banners behind her. Martin or the others they seemed to ignore completely. By their faces she could tell that Roland had been correct, they wanted to get their look at the warrior Queen. She had to admit that she felt a little self conscious with so many men staring at her.

  Voices were raised as she passed and men began to shout. “The Queen!” More men joined in. “The Queen! Summerhall!”

  By this time thousands had formed a wall on each side, with thousands more pushing forward behind them. She stopped her horse, so stunned was she at the spirited welcome and the naked admiration of so many. She remembered what her father had once told her. Facing battle, men will look for encouragement wherever they can find it. It is a leader’s duty to inspire them, to strengthen their hearts. If they believe in you, then the cause for which they fight will not matter. They will follow you and die if necessary out of loyalty and love. If they love you and the cause is just they will fight all the harder. Inspiration.

  Katelyn scanned the faces of those who had come to fight and maybe to die. She gripped the black handle of her sword and drew the polished blade. She lifted it as high as she could reach so that all could see. Sunlight reflected off the blade.

  “For Summerhall!” she shouted as loud as she could. The reaction was even more overwhelming than she had expected.

  Thousands upon thousands of swords were drawn and raised to the sky like silver blades of grass. “For Summerhall!!” The shout was deafening and it felt as if the earth itself recoiled from the sound. “For the Queen!!” Blade still held high, Katelyn heeled her horse to a walk. He banner men continued to follow. She kept her pace slow, regal, to give everyone a chance to see her who wanted to and so they would not think she was hurrying away from them or that she was spurning their attention. Her speed said that she had important business to attend to but she appreciated what they were doing.

  Someone must have noticed the banners and recognized the one that was hers. “For the Rose! For the Rose of Summer!” a voice shouted and the cry was picked by others as it sped through the crowd.

  She slowly approached a large, red striped pavilion at the camp’s center with the shouts of the army ringing in the air behind her and to either side. “The Rose of Summer!”

  She sheathed her sword and dismounted, then entered the pavilion as someone came to take her horse away. Robert and his son were there as well as Loras. They stood around a rectangular table that held a large map. The noise from outside started to fade. Roland, Oran, and Martin came in behind her followed by Thalamus.

  “That was some welcome,” Robert chuckled. “Rose of Summer? I like that.”

  Rob was eyeing her attire. “Inspiring isn’t she?” He smiled.

  “That will be enough of that,” she announced curtly. “Now tell me what has been happening,” she stated and went to stand over the table. The others joined her, finding a place of their own to stand where they could see the map.

  Roland pointed to the map which was held down by stones at the corners. “The enemy has crossed into Taragosa. They should be at Sunderly soon. They do seem to be heading straight for us, they are avoiding laying siege to any of the larger towns or cities along the way.” He removed his hand to look at her. “Aemon had most of the people evacuated to the north. He is trying to delay the enemy as much as he can, but the best we can hope for is that they will arrive here in two weeks, mayb
e a bit more if we are lucky.”

  She nodded her understanding. “What have you accomplished here? I saw the ditches around the camp.”

  “There are more fortifications on this side of the bridge, between the camp and the river,” he reported. “In case we have to retreat we can keep them from pursuing us across the river long enough to regroup or maybe destroy the bridge.”

  It seemed a reasonable plan. The idea was to find a defensible position along the enemy’s line of invasion. Somewhere they could appraise the enemy forces, and if they proved too much, still have a chance to escape and fight again later.

  “What about the numbers?” she asked, studying the map.

  “We currently have around twenty-five thousand men from Westland and another twenty-five from the Sun Plain. Taragon has sent five thousand so far, and there are another ten to fifteen still there.”

  “What do we face?” she asked dreading the answer.

  “Ninety to a hundred thousand Karands, sixty thousand Easterners. From what information we have gathered and by the descriptions of the foreigners I would say that half of those Easterners are Makkurans. The other half are a mix of Midalians and Karians.” He said the names awkwardly.

  Midalians and Karians? She thought that all of them were Makkurans. How many different lands were there across the Sea of the East? It was something to find out about. They needed to know what resources the enemy had at their disposal.

  Over a hundred and fifty thousand against the fifty-five she had right now, maybe as much as seventy after all the forces had arrived. They were in trouble and the faces around the table showed that they knew it too.

  “Is there still no word from Holdon?”

  “No,” Roland responded regretfully. He had been the one to say his countrymen would come.

  “And the North?” she had to ask. Of course no one here knew that she had sent Coran there. Thalamus watched them, but did not speak. He was still not going to offer any information.

  “Nothing so far,” Roland answered her question with a brief glance to the wizard.

  Now it came down to the question she had to ask. “What do you think of our chances, Lord Roland?”

  “I have made a plan that I think will give us the best chance of keeping the enemy from crossing the Blood. There are a few things that I cannot predict though.” Roland glanced again at the wizard. “Such as what the enemy might bring against us through wizardry. Perhaps your companion can shed some light on the subject.”

  “Oh, I forgot to introduce him,” Katelyn apologized. “This is Thalamus, Second Wizard of Herrinhall.”

  Roland and the others nodded in greeting.

  Thalamus inclined his head briefly in return. “In Herrinhall we have made it our business to keep watch on the ancient enemy, or I should say to keep watch against their return. We have also preserved some of the knowledge gained from the last Great War. So we know some of what we face from the Maji. It will not be easy because my colleagues and I will most likely be outnumbered as well. I am confident that we will be able to, at the least, make the Maji’s contribution to the fight negligible by using our skills to counter whatever they might attempt.”

  “So you have been watching the Maji?” Roland asked. “Is there anything you can tell us about them?”

  “A little. I do not know all their names, but I have an idea as to their abilities. The ones we must watch out for are the Majin. They are the upper level wizards, the most powerful.”

  “Who are they?” questioned Katelyn.

  “There is Kere, he is rather straight forward. He does not do anything without a reason. Unlike some of the others, he does not act with excessive cruelty unless it is necessary. Anaaris is similar to Kere, but he does have his vices. He is slightly stronger than Kere and more shrewd. Then there is Selisk.” Thalamus frowned as he spoke that name. “She is the strongest of the three, and the most intelligent. There are a couple of others that may be close to them in strength.” His frown disappeared. “From what we can tell Anaaris and Selisk do not seem to be with the army at the moment, so we have hope.”

  “That does not mean they will not be here when the army is,” Robert pointed out.

  “That is true.”

  “Excuse me,” Oran stated respectfully. “But how is it you know where those particular Maji are at any given time?”

  “I cannot say where they are at any given time. What we have learned comes from those of us we sent to watch the advancing army. They have been able to detect the usage of Naturus and with some study have been able to ascertain by that usage who is with the army. It is easier for us to detect the more powerful of the Maji so that is how we can keep track of the Majin.”

  Katelyn was thinking of something else. She was wondering at what Thalamus had not mentioned. “You did not say anything about Elthzidor, yet he is the one in charge.”

  “I did not mention him because I believe that he will not involve himself in the fight, at least not unless it becomes necessary. He will hold back his strength.”

  “But when he does get involved you will be able to deal with him, will you not?” Robert asked. He was not the only one to sense the unease coming from Thalamus at the mention of Elthzidor.

  “No,” the wizard replied.

  “No?” the word came from more than one throat.

  “Have you not yet comprehended what is going on here?” Thalamus’ voice rose as he talked. “All of Summerhall’s talk about another Great War and you still do not believe? This is not a simple invasion by a foreign power we are dealing with. The army that is coming here, and the Maji, have been sent here by the Dark God to destroy us all. Elthzidor is their chosen leader. He will not be easily dealt with.”

  “Is there no hope then?” King Robert asked.

  “There is hope,” Thalamus stated more calmly. “The First Wizard of Herrinhall is more powerful than I am. If he arrives in time, as he said he would, then he might be able to do something.”

  “Might?” Robert said. “If Elthzidor is the Destroyer’s champion than what of the prophecy? What of our own Champion?”

  “Ah, that is the point, is it not?” the wizard said with a thin smile. “Take heart, the Gods will reveal the Champion when the time is right and not before.”

  Rob grunted at the wizard’s words. “I hope that time comes before we are ground into dust.”

  Around the center of the camp, where the leaders of the Alliance were meeting, soldiers from all across Midia stood about, staring at what was sticking out of the ground in front of the large, striped pavilion. They looked upon the banners with a sense of pride and a belief in what they stood for.

  Chapter 39

  Heading South

  King Jarl never approached him with an offer, but that didn’t deter his daughters. They had taken every opportunity to be in his company. Whether it was for meals or meetings or anytime between, one if not both were always there ready with a word or a touch on the arm. It was with some relief that the Kings decided it was time to leave Nyess. There were only so many places to hide in a castle where he was a stranger and they knew every stone of it. He was so happy to be boarding the ship that he didn’t even mind when Ilana, the elder daughter, gave him a peck on the cheek and Nana, the younger, a squeeze of his hand in farewell. He didn’t think there would ever be an occasion for him to return to Nyess. He would see to that.

  It had all started upon reaching the city of Nyess, which was situated between two forks of the Wolf River, and the feast that was served in his honor. He suddenly found himself seated between two young women with blonde braids and blue eyes. They were the daughters of Jarl, the King of Nyess. It had been a long evening with them insisting on hearing him tell of his exploits. He tried to deny any, but they knew too much already for him to get away with it. He was finally rescued by Storvik who thought it a very good joke. Coran asked the Northman about the persistence of women. Storvik gave him a reply.

  “You are the Lord of the North,”
he had said. “The first in a thousand years, and like Eryk, you will be never forgotten. How could any unmarried girl resist the thought of marrying a living legend? Even married women might be interested, just not in commitments.” He had laughed very hard at his own joke.

  Apparently, being betrothed in the North did not mean very much, at least to other women. It only counted if you were actually married, and he had the feeling that that would not have saved him either. He decided that women were stranger than Karands.

  Thankfully, the day finally came for their departure and the ships were loaded with as many men as they could pack on board. As the first ships filled up they pulled up anchor and sailed out into the river to be replaced by another ship, that one was then loaded and replaced by yet another as thousands of eager Northmen waited for it to be their turn to board a ship.

  Coran boarded the same ship as Tenobius, Storvik, and one other wizard from Herrinhall. Tenobius and the other wizard were afforded their own cabin, and Coran had to share with Storvik, which was a good thing since the other cabins were packed with four or five men apiece. The crew’s area below decks was filled up as well and men had to find places for their blankets on the main deck too.

  The fleet of ships stretched along the river for miles. He estimated about fifteen to twenty thousand warriors had pushed themselves onto the vessels. He hoped that it would be enough with Grendin out of the fight and who knew what else had happened in his absence. Roland’s plan was the most logical, so he assumed that the West would try and put up a defense at Stockton. That was where he was leading the Northmen.

  They set sail under a sky of large grayish white clouds moving ponderously from west to east. The cold wind seemed to blow stronger on the water, and even the thick skinned Northmen sat on the deck with their backs to the sides of the railings for protection.

  Coran found his place in the prow as he usually did and ignored the wind as it whipped about his cloak and hair. The white covered land slipped by and was a stark contrast to the dark surface of the water. The river surged against the rocks of the bank creating a white froth that fell away to rejoin the current. He could sense the two men who approached him from behind, but let them speak before acknowledging their presence.