Seamas picked himself up off the ground and approached the horse once more. The horse paid little attention to him, flicking an ear as if to say, “Oh, it’s you again.”
Determined to make the beast bend to his will, he jumped into the saddle, grabbed a handful of mane, and dug his heels into the horse’s sides. The horse reared and bucked, but Seamas hung on, clutching at the horse’s mane and bridle. With a scream of anger, the horse took off, but Seamas stayed on, determined to show his uncle that he was not worthless. After a few minutes, the horse, who really was a well-trained animal, decided that Seamas was not going to fall off again and began to behave and listen to his signals. Seamas rode up in front of the palace at a stately and controlled trot.
His father and uncle had looked up; they were alongside the path talking when Seamas rode into sight. The boy kicked the horse into a canter and headed straight for his uncle with the half-formed intent of trampling him. The captain, however, merely stepped to the side and grabbed the reins, halting the horse mid-stride. Then he pulled the boy from the saddle. The king wore an expression of astonishment and fury at what Seamas had tried to do, but his uncle looked at him with gruff pride. From then on, the stern old sea captain had taken a special interest in Seamas and had taught him many skills that he would need to have as king.
Seamas shook himself out of his memories and turned to speak to his uncle, “It is a good day for battle.”
His voice was eager, yet there was a dark, hard undertone to it that betrayed his true mood. He was filling with anger and a cold, hard emotion that he could not name. It felt as though there was a layer of ice covering his words. He felt as though all he had to do was reach out and touch Aom-igh and it would be his.
“Aye, a good day for battle it is, Sire, ‘twould be better were the sky dark and the rain hanging heavy in the air,” his uncle said, and Seamas noticed that being at sea brought out the accent that Ramius had learned to hide as one of the Council. “Barring an unfavorable wind, we will reach the shore of Aom-igh by dawn, Your Majesty. How would you have me instruct the men?”
Seamas smiled slowly, hearing that he would be standing on the soil of Aom-igh within a few short hours. Soon he would be close, so close, to his final goal.
“Make sure that every man is ready to fight the moment we leave the ship.” Seamas paused, then continued, “Remind the men that the soldiers of Aom-igh are expecting us. They will not be caught by surprise. They will attack as soon as we are within range of their arrows.”
The captain nodded sharply to show that he understood. Seamas did not watch him leave, but turned back to the front of the ship, gazing once more towards the approaching shore. Soon his hand would reach clear across the sea, and no one would be able to stand against him; no one would dare try.
❖ ❖ ❖
As soon as the lookouts had spotted the sails through their spy-scopes, Arnaud signaled to Zara atop Fortress Hill. She immediately reached for her magic. It rushed to her easily, and she smiled with pleasure; it had been too long since she had used it, especially for something so demanding. She quickly wove a protective shield around the hill so that no one seeking to do her, or those with her, harm would be able to climb more than five paces up the hill before they would be forced to turn back. The shield shimmered a little from the inside, and a few of the women turned to look at her, questions in their eyes.
“It reminds me of the Pearl Cove,” one older woman murmured.
Zara smiled, but offered no response. Her heart went out to these people. They were so strong, so noble, and so peaceful. They had lost so much already. It made no sense. What purpose could...
“Look!” shouted one young woman as she pointed towards the harbor. “The ships!”
Zara could not fully fathom what she was seeing. The heavy ships of war had sailed much nearer to shore than was possible. She furrowed her brow in bewilderment. Ships of this size could not maneuver in such shallow depths, they should have struck bottom before now.
Slowly, a thought took shape, and she understood how the enemy had tried to fool them. These ships were far lighter than they appeared, and that revelation brought a knowing smile to Zara’s face. The report from the Cove People was now confirmed, and Arnaud was indeed prepared.
❖ ❖ ❖
Garen and his men were ready and waiting, hidden from view. The ships glided into port easily, even though the docks were meant for much smaller and much lighter boats.
Garen cautioned his men to save their arrows and wait until their targets were in range. Even the best archers cannot hit what their arrows cannot reach. Earlier, his men had set campfires ablaze deep in the woods and placed empty helmets on tall stakes all along the forest that stood between the harbor town and the palace. The deception would not add to their strength, but it might add caution to their enemies; it might cause them to hesitate a moment before their charge, and that moment was something Garen was counting on.
“Hold steady men,” he shouted. “They’ll be coming over the side in a moment and we must be ready to hold them back. Steady, let them come to us, do not rush them, let them make the mistakes, you just be ready to take advantage of those mistakes.”
Garen noticed the fear on the faces of his men. Many were young, but for almost all of these defenders, today would be their first, genuine experience of battle.
Garen turned and faced his men: “My soldiers... my friends... remember why we fight.” Pointing to Fortress Hill he continued, “We can fight for King, we can fight for country, we can even fight for honor... but what we really fight for is our loved ones. Remember your wives, your sons, your sisters, your nieces, your nephews: their future and their freedom is at stake. Will we stand by and let that future fade?”
A resounding NOOOO! filled the pending battlefield.
“Will we stand by and allow some enemy of men to rob that freedom and future from our families?”
NOOOOO! came the thundering reply.
“On this day, I fight for you and your families! Will you fight for me and mine?”
YESSSS! Came the roar from his men, and it was echoed from atop Fortress Hill with a harmony of YESSSS! At Garen’s signal, the arrows were released, and the battle was struck!
The Dark Warriors swarmed from their great ships amidst the rain of arrows and hesitated for a moment.
“NOW!” cried Garen. The men of Aom-igh did not hesitate at his command and raced to face their enemy with shouts of “For Aom-igh! For the King! And for Garen!”
Garen led the charge, but even his great heart paused when he saw the first wave of warriors flow from the ships. He quickly understood that they were outnumbered, and when the second wave of attackers emptied from their ships he and his men would be crushed. Garen did not expect the Dark Warriors to show them any mercy. However, long moments of fighting passed, and no more men came out of the boats. Suddenly, Garen understood; this onslaught was just a decoy, meant to pull their attention away from the true attack. Spirits rising as he finally understood Arnaud’s plan, he parried a vicious thrust and backhanded his opponent over the head with the hilt of his sword, then he pulled out his horn and gave two short signal blasts. The fighting grew more intense, but the warriors of Aom-igh began to give ground as ordered.
❖ ❖ ❖
The travelers were in the forest not far from Ayollan when they heard the sounds of battle erupting ahead.
Brant stopped his horse, holding a hand out to hush the others. Then he stood up in his stirrups and leaned forward, listening. The rest of them sat forward and strained their ears as well. All of them, that is, except Kiernan.
Kiernan had not seen Brant stop, and he continued to ride forward, chattering on about how exciting this adventure was and what a great tale it would make. He passed the others, talking to no one in particular. He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that everyone had stopped until Brant reached out and grabbed the reins of the minstrel’s horse, jerking the beast to a
halt. The horse the minstrel was riding stopped so suddenly that it forced Kiernan to stop his monologue in the middle of a word. He uttered a short cry of alarm as he nearly tumbled out of his saddle and over his horse’s head. He pulled himself back into the saddle, got his feet back in the stirrups, sat up straight, and looked around, curiosity filling his bright blue eyes. Brant fixed the minstrel with a dark, serious glare. Kiernan stared back at Brant, his expression unconcerned.
“What did you do that for?”
Brant spoke in a fierce whisper, “If you will not pay attention to my signals and keep quiet, I will be forced to tie you up and leave you behind before you get the rest of us killed.” He emphasized each word as he spoke.
Kiernan let out a hearty laugh, but then cut it short when he noticed that Brant’s expression had not altered. The minstrel’s face fell, and his normally boisterous, confident voice faltered a bit.
“Y-you… are joking?” he asked, a little more quietly than Oraeyn had ever heard him speak.
Brant did not reply. He merely looked at Kiernan; his dark gaze pierced through the minstrel. Kiernan fell very silent as he tried to hold Brant’s gaze, the whole forest heldits breath as Brant glared into Kiernan’s bright blue eyes. The blood drained out of Kiernan’s face, and he grew very pale. Finally, after a few long seconds, the minstrel dropped his eyes and nodded. His demeanor slumped, and he directed his horse once more to the end of the line.
Oraeyn had watched the whole exchange with a feeling of shock that grew within him as Brant spoke. He stared at Brant in horrified disbelief as Kiernan slunk back to his spot in quiet defeat. Oraeyn wanted to speak up, to say that the minstrel had not meant any harm but just did not think; but the words refused to come. He waited for Brant to break the horrible silence and say something reassuring, but the silence stretched on as Brant sat very still, listening intently to the sounds of battle. More than anything, Oraeyn wanted to ask Brant if he had meant what he had said. Surely he could not have truly meant that he would tie the minstrel up and leave him behind; such a fate might be better than what waited for them at the palace, but it could also be a death sentence if he were found by the wrong people. But the words were stuck somewhere inside of him, and they could not seem to find their way out. His throat felt dry and parched, and it seemed difficult for him to even force air out of his windpipe. His whole world had gone dark and cold and dangerous. In a few, sharp words, Brant had become someone he did not know, someone cruel and heartless, and Oraeyn felt that he could not live if that were true of the man.
At length, Brant turned to face the rest of the group. His face held no hint of expression as he spoke quietly, “The Dark Warriors have beaten us to the castle. By the sound of it, they are already attacking Ayollan and laying siege to the palace.” Kamarie’s face fell, and Brant held up a hand, speaking quickly, “But all is not lost. We must travel even more swiftly and silently now. Perhaps we can sneak in from behind and take the Dark Warriors by surprise. Even though we are few, it has not been uncommon in the past for one man to be the deciding factor in battles between armies of thousands of men.”
They nodded quietly in understanding. Oraeyn opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He felt a great agony welling up within him, but he could not find a way to express what was on his heart. Brant glanced at Oraeyn and saw the anguish written across his face. He seemed puzzled for a moment, then he looked back towards Kiernan and a light of understanding broke across his face. Something twinkled deep in Brant’s dark eyes, and the corners of his mouth twitched in something very like a smile. Then he winked at Oraeyn and swung around, urging his horse forwards.
Oraeyn sat completely still for one stunned moment, then a light seemed to dawn in his eyes. He heaved a deep sigh and smiled. His smile grew into a full-fledged grin, and he almost laughed, but he held back, remembering the danger. He looked at Brant with a new respect in his green eyes and shook his head. He urged his own horse on, much relieved of his worry, a little bit rueful, and a little bit wiser.
chapter
NINETEEN
Proceeding cautiously with her companions, Kamarie began to recognize the landmarks around them. They were very close to Fortress Hill and not far from the palace. As they neared the castle the sounds of battle grew steadily louder and their stealth increased accordingly. They emerged from the forest just south of Fortress Hill. The battle was before them on the shore and through the Port of Aolla. Kamarie’s face reflected her concern.
“I thought my father would have committed more men to defending the town,” she commented.
Oraeyn nodded in agreement, then looked to Brant for an answer. Brant was watching the battle intently, as though he were searching for something.
“Arnaud is no fool,” he commented to no one in particular.
Dylanna looked at him quizzically, but Brant did not seem to notice as he was deep in thought. His eyes moved across the battlefield again.
“He must have anticipated the tactics of this enemy,” he continued. “He must have known this naval attack was simply a decoy.”
“What do you mean?” Kiernan asked, speaking for the first time since Brant had reprimanded him.
Brant turned towards the minstrel and explained, “I am guessing that the Dark Warriors sent a large number of ships with a small number of men on board. They are experienced in warfare, so they would know that their armada would be spotted long before they approached the harbor. They also must have known that Aom-igh has no navy, but they would be uncertain of our shoreline defenses, so they would not want to commit their entire force to the ships. They took the information they were certain of and used it to their advantage and made it look as though their entire army was coming from one direction, which is why I called it a decoy attack.
“However, in light of the number of men who are actually fighting, I have to assume that Arnaud must have seen through the decoy. Perhaps he noticed that the ships were riding too high in the water, or maybe he watched them enough to see how many men were on each ship, maybe he even received advance warning from his intelligence forces, I don’t know. The point is not how he saw through the decoy, but that he did see through it. That is why only a part of the army is down there fighting. The safest bet is that the rest of the knights are elsewhere, waiting to receive the main attack.”
“How can you know all this?” Leila asked in an awed voice, her eyes wide.
Brant shrugged a little. “Just speculating really,” he said, his voice indifferent.
Dylanna, made no comment. She was busy glancing around as though she were trying to find something. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked around again. Nobody paid much attention to her. Nobody paid any attention to Kiernan, either, or they would have seen the sharp look of understanding and approval in his eyes.
“What should we do?” Oraeyn asked.
Before Brant could answer, Dylanna pointed up to the top of Fortress Hill. “Zara is up there.”
Leila looked at her curiously and then waved a hand at the hill. The air shimmered between them and the slope, reminding Oraeyn of the Pearl Cove. Leila smiled.
“She has grown strong indeed to be able to hide a protective spell of that magnitude from me so well.”
“She will need help,” Dylanna said. “Strong though she is, she cannot hold that up for long. She gave up her training when she married Arnaud. Leila and I must join Zara.”
Brant nodded. “Better take Yole and Kamarie with you.”
“What?” Kamarie cried. “You can’t send me away from all the excitement. I won’t go!”
Oraeyn turned to her and spoke soberly, “It isn’t exciting Kamarie.”
Kamarie glared at him. “I am just as much of a squire as you! Give me one good reason why I cannot fight alongside the other knights.”
“Because I won’t let you,” Brant and Dylanna spoke in unison before Oraeyn could come up with a good response.
“A battl
efield is no place for a young lady,” Brant said quietly. “Especially when that young lady is the Princess of the Realm.”
“But I…” Kamarie started to protest, but Dylanna cut her off before she could start.
“And you are a young lady, whether you act like one or not,” she said. Her voice was stern but there was a soft fondness in her eyes.
Oraeyn struggled to hold back the laugh that bubbled up within him at Dylanna’s words. One look at Kamarie’s face, however, was enough to quell any desire he had to laugh. Her eyes were a stormy dark blue, and her face was set in a glower.
Suddenly Leila broke the tension by asking, “How are you with a bow, niece?”
Kamarie considered for a moment. “I’m a fair shot,” she said, forgetting for a moment that she was upset.
Leila spoke again, choosing her words cautiously, “The barrier that your mother set up is a rather tricky one: it only affects those who would do harm from getting inside. It does not affect friends from passing, and it does not prevent anyone or anything from getting out.
“I am certain that an extra archer placed up top would be a great asset to our cause. If you are good enough?” Leila asked.
Kiernan Kane spoke up immediately, “And such a great song it would make! The lone princess upon the hill, fending off the enemy with her glowing bow and her deadly arrows, her dark hair streaming behind her in the breeze...” he stopped, looking a little crestfallen. “Um… well, I mean, it would make a great ballad, but it wants an ending.”
Kamarie tilted her head to one side, the minstrel’s words carrying her imagination up the hill. His words made sense and spoke to her of glory and renown, urging her to accept this noble duty. She did not see the sly look that flitted briefly across Kiernan Kane’s face as he spoke. She thought about Leila’s idea for a moment more. Then she nodded.
“I suppose I really have no choice,” she said. “Very well, I will take my place at the top of Fortress Hill.”
King's Warrior (The Minstrel's Song Book 1) Page 36