The Steel Lord: Book 01 - BannerFall

by Jason McWhirter

  Jarak stood, looking at his handy work. It didn’t look too bad. “I better go check on the rest of the men. May Felina see you through this,” he added. Argon and Felina were believed to be married, and depending on one’s personal preference, one would pray to one or the other, or sometimes both. Men usually prayed to Argon before battle, but most prayed to Felina if they wanted healing. Jarak assumed it was because she was female. After all, men did most of the fighting, whereas it was usually a woman that would provide care and comfort if one were hurt or sick. It was a habit that he had picked up at a young age and he didn’t think twice about offering her blessings.

  “Thank you, sir,” Liam replied sincerely.

  Reed lifted his hand from his side, offering it to Jarak. It was dirty and bloody, but so was his. He took it. “Maybe someday I will have the honor of fighting beside you.”

  Jarak smiled for the first time. “It would be my honor. But get well first.” Jarak cringed inwardly, ashamed that he had skirted his duty. He should have been with them…he should have fought with them. Maybe he could have saved lives if he hadn’t shirked his duty. But, despite his shame, he also felt something else. It was a sense of accomplishment. As he walked away he had a bit more spring in his step, uncharacteristically eager to help where he could.

  It was later that evening, after supper, when Daricon sent a page to Jarak’s room requesting his presence in the library. Jarak had spent the entire day tending to the wounded and providing what comfort he could to the dying. He was sweaty and his clothing was covered with blood by the time he dragged himself to his chambers. He had ordered a bath and requested supper in his room. He was physically exhausted and emotionally drained, and the promise of a hot bath beckoned to him. He had barely finished dressing after his bath when the page knocked and delivered the summons.

  The library was located in his uncle’s private chambers. Previously the room had been an anteroom with an attached storage room. To enter Daricon’s private chambers one had to pass through the anteroom. Daricon had knocked out the wall between the storage room and the anteroom to make the space roomier. He then had his best craftsmen line three entire walls with heavy wooden shelves to hold his large collection of rare and valuable books. The edges of the shelving had been carved to represent leafy vines with delicate flowers, then covered in gold leaf. They shimmered in the bright light cast by the dancing flames of the fireplace which had been built into the fourth wall. Richly embroidered tapestries flanked the fireplace, and a large painting depicting Jarak’s grandfather, heavily armored and riding a massive white horse, hung over the mantel. A large round oak table sat in the middle of the room surrounded by six sturdy oak armchairs upholstered in soft leather.

  Jarak entered and saw Daricon standing, looking down at the table in the middle of the room. The chandelier above the table held six lanterns, each one containing three candles. Three more lanterns sat on the table and the roaring fire in the fireplace behind him provided a flickering orange light throughout the room.

  “Uncle, you wanted to see me,” Jarak said as he walked over to the table. Daricon was looking over a map covered with pawns representing troops. He looked up and smiled. Jarak hadn’t seen his uncle smile at him for quite some time and it made him a bit apprehensive. “Have a seat. Would you like some wine? It’s from Kael.”

  Jarak raised his eyebrows. “What’s the occasion? And yes, I’d love some,” he added as he sat down wearily.

  “No occasion. I just wanted to tell you that I’m proud of you. You did well today. I overheard the men talking about you.”

  Jarak took the glass of wine. He was a little surprised. After all, Daricon had not been overly generous with praise since he had arrived. In fact it appeared that he was often more irritated than pleased with him. “Thank you, Uncle,” he replied tentatively.

  “You seem surprised.”

  “I guess I am. I feel like you’ve been disappointed in me since I arrived here.”

  Daricon smiled and took a sip of his wine. “You did not misinterpret my feelings. I have been angry at you.”

  “Why? What have I done?”

  “That’s just it, you haven’t done anything.”

  “I don’t understand. I’ve taken lessons in combat. I’ve attended military conferences. I’ve studied ledgers and maps with you and your officers. I’ve continued my mage training. All at your request. How can you say I’ve done nothing?”

  “You have done all those things. But not with any heart in them. Jarak, your mind is elsewhere. It is clear to everyone that you’d rather be someplace else. But today, for the first time, you acted like a prince, and you did it well.”

  Jarak felt an initial flush of anger at Daricon’s comments, but it quickly passed, as he realized that Daricon was right. Jarak took a long drink from his goblet, staring into the fire as he reflected on his uncle’s words. When he had returned to his room to bathe, trying to process the jumbled events of the day, he had actually begun to look more deeply within himself. And as he washed the blood from his hands and arms prior to climbing into the steaming hot bath, he had stared at the blood in the wash basin, the swirling crimson a vivid reminder of the sacrifices that the soldiers, his soldiers, had given in defense of his family and home. Sitting in the bath, the hot water soothing his muscles and calming his mind, he tried to think about what he had done to deserve such sacrifices, and he didn’t like the answer that surfaced. The fact was he had done nothing. He had made a promise to himself just then, laying in the soothing water, that when he stepped from the bath that he would try to change. As the water rinsed away the sweat and blood, it brought to the surface something different, cleaner in all aspects. He would try to do better. “You’re right,” he said finally. “I have not had my heart in my duties. I plan to change that.”

  “Good. Let us start tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I am taking another patrol out in the morning. That scouting party was too close yesterday. I want a show of force and I want you to come with me.”

  Jarak saw images of all the men he had helped flash through his mind. If they could do it, so could he. How could he live a life of luxury, a life supported by the sweat and blood of others, if he wasn’t willing to carry some of the burden himself? It didn’t bother him before, but now it did. “I would be honored to join you.”

  Daricon smiled, lifting his wine glass. “To honor, courage, and new beginnings.” Jarak tapped his glass to his uncle’s. They both drank together, savoring the velvety smoothness of the fine wine, as well as a growing mutual respect.

  “Tell me the plan,” Jarak asked, leaning closer to the map on the table.

  “Well, as you can see, we have our troops stationed with the Kaelian troops here and here.” Daricon pointed to a line on the map that blocked the main roads crossing into the Eltus Peninsula and leading to the capital city of Eltus. There was a second line of troops, smaller than the first, barricading the roads leading to Lyone and into Dy’ainian lands. “Saricon troop numbers have been steadily growing, reinforced by troops from Fara. The scouting party that attacked us yesterday had made it through our lines. They are clearly trying to reconnoiter information. They have tested our lines numerous times over the last few weeks. I think they are planning something decisive. I’d like to reinforce our troops that are blocking the entrance to Lyone, as well as make a show of force.”

  “What time are we leaving?”

  “The troops will be gearing up at first light. I plan to depart soon after.”

  “Will Serix be traveling with us?”

  “Yes, he already knows.”

  Jarak tilted his head in wonder. “But how did you know I would agree?”

  “I saw it on your face today. You were proud.”

  Jarak leaned back in his chair, smiling. “You are very astute.”

  “I’ve lead men my entire life. One thing I can recognize a mile away is the aura that surrounds someone who is feeling proud of a
task well done. You were shining like a lone star in a dark sky.”

  Jarak sat forward, raising his glass. “To lone stars. May Argon and Felina protect the brave.”

  They toasted, and drank to the morning adventure.

  One hundred men in Legionnaire armor, helms, and bouncing lances rode into the lands of Kael. Jarak rode with Daricon and Serix in the front. He too wore Legionnaire armor but carried no lance, a weapon he had not yet become proficient with. He wore a long sword at his side and strapped to his horse was a short cavalry bow and arrows. One thing he always carried on him was his Mage Stone, which had been expertly set into the buckle of his sword belt. Accompanying the Legionnaires were six carts laden with supplies for the troops stationed on the front lines.

  It took them a half day to reach the first picket line which was made up of fifty men camped along the main road to Lyone. It was mid-day and they were alert. Jarak noticed a few fires lit flanking the road, along with maybe twenty tents. Everyone was doing something; preparing the mid-day meal, gathering firewood, cleaning weapons, guarding the perimeter of the camp, or sparring in an open field. When they saw their column, everyone stood at attention.

  Daricon dismounted. “Let’s unload some supplies and take a brief rest.” Jarak and Serix dismounted. Three soldiers hastened forward to see to their horses. “Jarak, order the men to take rest and have some quick rations.”

  “Thank you,” Jarak said to the soldier who took the reins of his horse, leading it to the side of the road.

  The man grunted. “My Prince,” nodding his head in acknowledgment.

  Jarak had never been given such a leadership role and he looked at Serix with uncertainty. Serix smiled and winked at him, which gave him a bit more confidence. Daricon noticed his hesitation. “Don’t worry,” he said, “tell Lieutenant Deklan and he’ll take the lead.”

  Jarak took a deep breath and moved back down the line, finding the officer shortly. “Lieutenant Deklan, take four men and unload the supplies for the men here. Everyone else shall take a brief rest and quick rations. We will depart shortly”

  “Very good, my Prince.” Without a second glance the Legionnaire barked out orders and within a few moments the entire column was resting and eating dried meat and bread, washing it down with cold water.

  Jarak found Serix and Daricon sitting by a fire talking with a soldier. When he approached the man stood and bowed. “Prince Dormath, it is good to finally meet you. My name is Captain Dalgard.”

  “Well met, Captain.”

  “Please, join us,” he said, moving a short log near him. “I’m sorry we don’t have anything more comfortable.”

  “It is fine. Thank you.” Jarak sat down and Daricon tossed him a piece of dried meat.

  “Have you seen any more troop movements behind the main lines?” Daricon asked.

  Captain Dalgard frowned. “I’m afraid so. Just this morning several scouts came back and said they saw tracks no more than half a day’s ride from here.”

  “Horse?” Serix asked.

  “No, men on foot.”

  “Was it close to where we were attacked yesterday?”

  “It was. It looks like the Saricon scum have been frequently crossing our lines. I’m afraid we just don’t have the troop numbers to adequately block all access.”

  “For what purpose?” Jarak asked.

  The captain sighed. “To gather information.”

  “I agree,” Daricon added. “I think they are assessing troop numbers, movements, and supplies, whatever they can.”

  “Sounds like they plan on advancing,” Jarak stated.

  “Could be. But the question is, to where?” Daricon asked. “Will they send their army to attack us, here at Lyone? Or bring it east and cross onto the Eltus Peninsula and attack the Kaelian capital?”

  “If they control Eltus, they control the Dynel Strait. I would imagine that would be important to them,” Captain Dalgard suggested.

  “What if they split their forces?” Jarak asked.

  “Why would they do that?” the Captain asked. “It would weaken them.”

  Daricon looked at Jarak, who looked at everyone with uncertainty. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. But something didn’t sit right with him and it had been bugging him ever since he saw the map in Daricon’s library. “Well, if they take their main army and head straight to Eltus, what will we do with our troops?”

  “Depends,” Daricon said. “If their main army heads to Eltus, then the Kaelian troops will have to retreat to the city.”

  “Will we be going with them?”

  Captain Dalgard and Daricon both shook their heads. Daricon answered the question however. “We would not. We can’t leave our border unprotected.”

  “And the Saricons know it. If my understanding is correct, we have been able to hold them off thus far because our forces have been combined. If they send the main force to Eltus, that will force us to split our forces just as they did. If I were them, I would attack Eltus with the main army and leave a small contingent here just to keep us pinned down.”

  Captain Dalgard looked at Daricon, a worried expression on his face. “What if you are right, my Prince, but instead of sending the main force to Eltus, they attack Lyone with the main force and cross into Dy’ainian lands?”

  Daricon was deep in thought. “I don’t think they would do that. They have to control the Dynel strait. We all know they want to control the Kul-brite trade. Without that trade route it would matter little if they took Dy’ain. They need Eltus first, then they can set their eyes on Dy’ain. Jarak, your thinking is sound. If they split our forces, they may be able to defeat us individually.”

  “But what choice do we have? We can’t go with the Kaelians to Eltus and hope they don’t attack the garrison. It’s too big of a risk,” Captain Dalgard said.

  Daricon frowned. “You’re right. We cannot do that. If they take Eltus, then they will certainly be heading into Dy’ain next.”

  “The real question is, do we try and make our stand at the garrison, or do we retreat to Cythera and make our stand there?” Jarak asked.

  “Questions I’d rather not entertain,” Captain Dalgard mumbled. The idea of giving up the garrison without a fight didn’t sit well with any of them.

  “Nor I, but we must think of the worst case scenario,” Daricon said. “I’d rather not give up the garrison without a fight. If we had to, we could hold off a larger force for a week or two, hopefully delivering enemy casualties in the process. Then we could implement an organized retreat to Cythera.”

  No one said anything as they pondered the possibilities. After a few moments Captain Dalgard looked up at the sky. “You’d best be moving, Lord Daricon. You need to reach the next picket line before dark.”

  Daricon sighed, looking at the sun, now making its descent toward night. “You’re right. Jarak, get the men ready?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Cat was becoming more nervous by the minute. How much longer could she go undetected? Her face wrap, hat, and the hood of her cloak had so far done an adequate job of hiding her identity. Sitting in the back of one of the supply carts had kept her away from the front of the line, specifically away from Prince Jarak who she knew would recognize her. After all, he had been clearly vying for her attention since he had arrived at the garrison over six months ago. What did he see in me? she thought. I don’t have the curves that most men prefer. Besides that, she smiled inwardly, I can probably wield a sword better than he. She admitted to herself that he was physically appealing, but she also knew that a relationship with him could go nowhere. Technically she was the daughter of a lord, but her father’s station was well below that of the prince, and their union would never be allowed. Besides that, she wasn’t gifted in the Way, generally a requirement to marry into the royal family. She knew his type though. He wasn’t the first man who had tried to bed her. He hadn’t yet been too insistent, but she could see it in his eyes. Men were so easy to read.

  The oppor
tunity to hide herself within the caravan had presented itself the day before, and she had been ready. A new quartermaster had arrived at the garrison, along with two new assistants, and none of them knew who she was. One of the assistants, Tulvin, had been preparing the supplies the night before when she had presented herself to him with orders, handwritten from Captain Hagen. It was easy to for her to forge her father’s signature, and the young man, being new, didn’t question them at all. And even if he were to say something to the head quartermaster, it was unlikely that that would raise any suspicion, since he didn’t know her either. So far it had worked perfectly. As far as Tulvin was concerned, she was simply someone assigned to him to help administer and deliver supplies. He had no idea that her sword was tucked between some boxes and that she wore hardened leather armor under her baggy tunic.

  She was beyond bored with garrison life and had become increasingly frustrated that her persistent demands to join the Legion had been totally ignored by her father. Well, she would show him that she was capable. It wasn’t as if she were hoping for trouble, but she wanted to experience being a Legionnaire, and if trouble presented itself, she would be ready.

  The column had been making good time until a wheel on one of the carts broke when the axle cracked underneath from the weight of the heavily laden cart.

  The wagon master, Jons, crawled out from under the wagon. Daricon and Jarak stood next to him waiting for his assessment. The rest of the column had already dismounted and were taking rest and water.

  Jons shook his head, frowning. “I’m sorry, Lord Daricon, Prince Jarak, but the axle snapped. It must have been cracked already. The weight of the cart just finished the job.”

  “Can you fix it?” Daricon asked.

  “I can, sir, but it will take a while. I always bring an extra axle. But I will have to unload the cart, lift it off the front wheels, remove the old axle and wheels and replace it with a new one. It will take a quarter day.”

  Jarak could see that Daricon was clearly frustrated. Jarak looked around, trying to get a feel for their surroundings. They would never make the next picket line before dark. He looked back at Daricon who seemed to be mulling over their options. “It’s not a bad place to camp,” Jarak said. “That outcropping over there,” he added, pointing to a sheltered spot off the side of the road, “would provide some protection. Perhaps we should set up camp here while Master Jons fixes the wagon. Jons, can you have the wagon ready by tomorrow?” Jarak asked.