Andrew was silent for a time as the weight of office removed the rigor from his posture. "How do we know this is the truth? What proof have you that the kingdom is so infested with spies and that Prince Valam's life is in danger?"
"Promote Captain Brodst to King's Knight First Captain. He is the only one in Imtal palace that I trust. The truth of the matter will then reveal itself." Midori turned to Adrina as she started to move away from her father-king. Her expression said the thing that she couldn't say. "Heed the warning or not, I no longer care. I have fulfilled my duty."
It was then that Adrina remembered Midori's earlier words about the danger and the journey she would soon be undertaking. "Say something father," she cried out. "Tell her what I know is in your heart!"
Andrew said nothing. He merely watched as Midori slipped into the shadows of the courtyard and then faded from sight.
Seth stood silently as Cagan swung the Lady L about to fill the sails, forcing the pursuers to scramble to catch a fresh breeze.
Seth passed to Cagan's mind, Clever, Sailmaster Cagan, very clever.
Cagan's retort was swift and his eyes never broke away from the sails or the wheel. "I had some help, did I not?"
The forces of the Mother are at the call of all who serve her. A peculiar sight caught Seth's eye and for an instant his thoughts broke off. A speck along the horizon grew to a dot on the water. To the east, a ship! he called out to all on board.
Cagan sighed. "It is over, my friend. One way or another we must move to engage, either to the rear or to the front." The wily sailmaster paused. "Yet perhaps… Yes, if we tack directly toward that incoming ship we will surely catch them off guard."
Seth nodded agreement and Cagan ordered the vessel turned against the wind; their nimble sloop could cut well in the tack. The cutters behind them, on the other hand, were much slower in the turns, and cross-winded the Lady L rapidly approached the ship that a short time ago had been but a mere spot on the water.
All on board readied for the inevitable. Silent prayers were sent to the Father and Mother to protect and to keep them.
"Sailmaster, she has square foremasts and two lateen rears!" yelled the lookout from his perch.
An expression of dismay and fear passed over Cagan's face. His fears permeated the air and flowed to Seth along with his open thoughts. The speed with which the vessel had moved through the water had led him to believe it was another cutter. Cagan had not expected a full-sized war galleon.
Seth was also worried. King Mark was better prepared than they had thought. He only wished he could risk the projection of his will to contact Brother Liyan and warn him. Many skilled craftsmen had labored long on such a vessel as they now faced, which as they drew closer, loomed larger and larger against the pale blue backdrop of the waning day.
The two ships, galleon and sloop, were nearly within striking distance of each other. The Lady L was dead on course for the galleon, and with the other enemy ships reduced to unseen dots to the distant rear, for now it would be just a one-on-one engagement.
Seth was proud of Cagan's sailors. They held no fear in their thoughts, only determination that was strong and growing with each passing moment. They followed Cagan's orders and kept the sails perfectly trim while they rallied for the coming fight.
A questioning voice came into Seth's mind, Brother Seth?
Everrelle? Seth said curtly, disturbed by the untimely interruption.
Everrelle's response was strong and firm. Do you mark any of our kind on board the ship?
I do… not. Seth paused then gasped.
Nor do I, added Galan.
What if they are merely shielding their thoughts? Bryan offered. We should probe to make sure.
Seth agreed. Bryan cast his will into the wind. Cagan continued on a direct course for the galleon. A few moments later Bryan passed to their thoughts, There is no trickery.
Seth's grimace turned upward, perhaps the day was not lost.
The galleon captain scrambled to turn the large ship, barking out orders that carried across the darkening waters even above the sound of rising frenzy from both sides. As Cagan turned toward his broadside, he tried gallantly to fill sails for maneuvering speed and then with a resonant rending, sloop and galleon collided. The air filled with the cacophony of crunching timbers and shrill screams.
The battle was joined.
The galleon had received a potentially lethal blow and was gaining water fast. Still her sailors would not go down alone. Grapples were swiftly set and tied off tight. Cut lines were cast back relentlessly, yet this alone was not enough and the two ships would go down together if the sea had its way.
"They do not stand a chance against us!" Cagan cried out to his sailors as he swung across to the galleon's low side on a rope tied to the upper rigging. With a cheer, his men returned his chant and charged, their blades clashing with the enemy and drawing crimson blood.
The eleven members of the Red stood still, waiting until the mournful screams in their minds reached a crescendo. When he could take no more, Seth screamed out the order to attack.
The Red surged over the side, pouring forth like a deadly red rain. A blur of brutal force, they dropped the enemy each where they stood with but a single precise touch. Such was their evident anger and the might of their invoked will.
When the first of the Red fell, a blow from behind piercing his heart, Seth screamed again. He vowed there and then to spare no suffering on the one who had delivered the deadly blow. With a jump and a kick, the guilty was knocked stunned to the deck, his demise not instantaneous like the others before him.
Nine and one of the Red trudged onward toward the galleon's high deck. Three sailors were all that remained of Cagan's once proud group and they protected his rear as he struggled against the galleon's surly captain. Seth tried to push through to reach Cagan but was held at bay. The enemy was strong and wielded their weapons skillfully. Two more brothers fell.
The sight enraged Seth. He pushed forward with renewed vigor, as did his companions.
Seth and seven others reached the high deck to find only Cagan remained standing. All around him were the dead and the dying and his sword lay deep in the enemy captain's chest.
Drained, Cagan stumbled. Seth rushed to his aid. Cagan's clothes, blood splattered and shredded, revealed multiple lacerations. Seth held Cagan from toppling over. He knew there was no time to attend to the wounds and Cagan knew this as well. Two of the pursuing ships were closing in and soon their ranks would sweep over the decks to the place where the last few survivors stood.
"It is only us at the last." Cagan choked on his own blood and weakly added, "my friend."
Seth was silent. The middle decks of the galleon were already being claimed by the sea and their own small ship was beginning to founder. The end was surely near.
As his mind filled with despair, Seth found strength in Cagan's eyes. He turned to the few fated to remain and pointed to the ships closing in. They are what stand in the way of escape. We cannot fail; we will not fail. Eight against the many shall be triumphant!
Cagan struggled to his feet. "There are… nine!" he shouted.
Chapter Seven
Three squadrons of garrison troops, one of the Horse and two of the Foot, filed through Imtal's southern gate in ponderously long lines four abreast. At the city's eastern, western and northern gates, a similar scene played out as every available soldier and conscript moved from the city to the fields. This day the city would be won or lost, and the royal household would be moved under guard to Alderan.
As she listened to hooves and boots clatter on the cobbled streets, Adrina knew she would miss Imtal. So often she had looked out her window, stared at its tall gray walls and dreamed of things outside that the lands beyond seemed just that, a dream. She let her mind wander along the city streets and into the shadowed alleyways she passed, pieces of her thoughts falling into every nook and cranny.
Soon afterward, her thoughts went to those she left beh
ind. She would miss Lady Isador and her father-king, this was true, but oddly, she decided that most of all she would miss those tall gray walls. They had housed and symbolized her fears, her loss, her anger, even her hopes and dreams for so long they truly seemed a part of her. The future without them to look out at seemed a frightening thing.
Her dreams had carried her through those three long years after her mother's death, but now Adrina finally had what she wanted and suddenly she felt an overwhelming urge to race back to Imtal Palace.
Returning from her thoughts, her eyes went to the hills of the Braddabaggon. With one hand she held the reins while the other gripped the hilt of her sword, though she had been told that the elite guardsmen around her had sworn their lives for hers should it come to it. She surveyed the battlefields that they passed, the dirt in some areas stained with the blood of the fallen. She longed to be farther south and away from the fighting.
Along with thoughts of the father she left behind, Adrina cast away thoughts of Rudden Klaiveson. Her betrothal to set the alliance and the Barony of Klaive was at the end of the journey. First, she would travel to Alderan by the sea.
The air that morning was fresh and cool. Overhead the sky, besmirched with dark clouds, promised of rain. Adrina took in a deep breath and as the smell of grass and smoke wafted to her nose, she tightened her grip on the reins and bid her horse to speed onward. The sound of hundreds of hooves and thousands of feet plodding along muddy ground filled the air.
Four times the trail ended and nothing save the perilously high walls of the canyon loomed before them. To continue the descent, Xith and Vilmos used ropes and when they finally reached the bottom Vilmos was out of breath, panting with sweat dripping from his chin. He sighed and fought to get his breathing under control. He craned his neck up to see the lip of the wall, knowing the hard work had been oddly cleansing.
A breeze cutting through the vale brought cool air swirling beside the wall. Vilmos smiled even though the cool perspiration tingled his nose and sent a chill up his back. "Where do we go from here?" he asked.
"The valley will carry us to the upper bounds of the Vangar," Xith said, indicating the brief rest was over.
Xith spoke as he walked. "From there, it is at most a day's trek to the plains beyond. We do not want to delay long in the forest."
"Beyond?" Vilmos said, turning to regard the shaman.
With the high sun at his back Xith seemed mystical and while it was perhaps the timeworn face etched from the stones of Under-Earth itself, it could have been the troubled eyes dulled by the sun yet still of a silvery gray. "The whole of the greatest kingdom in all the lands is north and it awaits."
"The Alder's Kingdom?" Vilmos asked. "How will we survive the wastes beyond Sever?"
"Great Kingdom to those who dwell there," Xith said as he slung his leather satchel over the opposite shoulder and put the walking stick into his left hand. "The Borderlands are in the far north, beyond the bounds of Great Kingdom, but I suspect our journey will not carry us that far north…"
Xith's voice trailed off. He froze. His face turned pale. He waved his free hand in the air, causing a glowing orb of white to appear and within the orb was a face. At first Vilmos didn't recognize the face but then the image grew clear, as if powerful eyes telescoped inward.
The face was that of his tutor and it was riddled with fear. Her head was swaying about and though her face was all Vilmos could see, he knew she was running scared and something or someone was chasing her.
Xith pursed his lips and blew into the orb. He whispered, "Run fleet upon the wind, child…"
His spell of speed and protection cast, the shaman turned his attention to the one that called to him and the image of the warrior elf burst to life within the orb. The raft the elf and his companions floated on was held together with little more than faith and to this, Xith cast a spell of binding so that the makeshift raft may survive the turbulent waters of the open ocean. He could offer little else for the distance was great and his strength was drained.
Chapter Eight
The storm clouds of early morning were blown south by strong winds out of the north and a clear sky quickly replaced dark clouds. Adrina rode quietly, content for a time watching the battlefields fall away behind them.
The swelling rounds of the Braddabaggon quickly replaced the green of the Imtal plains. Adrina kept alert, her eyes wide, watching for signs of trouble. The guardsmen around her were similarly alert. Although she couldn't hear the raging battle in the fields to the north over the din of hooves and feet, she imagined she could and grew anxious for Caption Brodst to quicken the pace.
For a time she thought about the long southwesterly trek to Alderan. The coastal city was a day's ride south of the Free Cities and was rumored to be beautiful beyond compare. In days of old it had been the capital of Great Kingdom and was named after the first king of the land, the Alder. It was once considered the meeting place of the North, South and East or as legend said, the meeting place of the three realms.
Adrina maneuvered her mount between Keeper Martin and Emel. She attempted to spark a conversation with Emel. She didn't know why he was angry with her but she aimed to apologize quickly. She needed someone to talk to. In response, Emel spurred his mount and rode to the front of the party. Her intent hadn't been to anger Emel, only to carry on a conversation with him.
"Dear one," Keeper Martin said, "he will forgive you in time. For now, just let him be. Enjoy the morning."
Adrina was aghast; the Lore Keeper had spoken to her. She didn't have the heart to tell him that she couldn't enjoy the morning under the circumstances. Her reply instead was an easy response of agreement, a few more hours of silence would be tolerable, but just barely so. She hoped Emel would speak to her soon.
At midday Captain Brodst called the column to a halt. The abeyance would only be long enough to give horses and tired foot soldiers a much needed rest and to grab a light repast. Adrina was very pleased to rid her bottom of the saddle for a short time. After dismounting, chasing off an attendant and leading her horse to where Keeper Martin, Father Jacob and a few others were gathered next to a small stream beside the road, Adrina dove into her saddle bags where she found dried beef, still-warm rolls and a skin of kindra-ale.
While she ate, Adrina looked to the Lore Keeper and the King's First Minister. She wondered at Father Jacob's quick approval of the journey. His words on behalf of her father-king had surprised her then and puzzled her now as she contemplated them. Why did a man who spoke directly to Great Father care so? Why did a man like that do anything?
Then there was Keeper Martin. Rumor had it the great keepers communicated in dreams and that is how they recorded the histories of all that went on in the land. Rumor also had it that Martin was unlike his predecessors. The head keeper before Martin never left the Halls of Knowledge. Keeper Martin was forever traversing the land, heading over mountain, braving the wilds of the Territories or journeying to unknown places in the Far South.
"It is impolite to stare, dear," whispered a voice behind her.
Adrina gulped down a lump of half-chewed meat. "I didn't mean to stare. Do you know everything, Keeper Martin?"
Grey-haired Martin chuckled. "No, Your Highness, I don't, though there are those who say I would like to."
Adrina took a sip of kindra-ale, a bitter tasting drink with an unpleasant aftertaste that was strangely satisfying. "Will you be going all the way to Alderan with us, Keeper Martin?"
"I was planning to turn south at the crossroads and press on to South Province with a detachment heading to Quashan' garrison, but I think I will continue to Alderan. It seems my business in the South can wait a few days."
Not knowing what else to say, Adrina smiled and returned to her meal. After eating she wandered to the edge of the stream. There was a small pool here, formed where white waters rushing from upstream found themselves blocked by two large boulders. The twelve guardsmen sworn to protect her followed, only a few steps behind.
Bending down, she dipped her hands into the water of the pool. Finding it clear, she rinsed the dirt of the road from her face and neck. Ignoring the guardsmen, she slipped off her riding boots and dangled her toes in the cool water.
As she looked into the waters of the pool, she imagined that Lady Isador was beside her, chastising her for doing something that wasn't proper. She quickly slipped her boots back on and pulled the collar of her riding blouse into place.
Emel approached her slowly, calling out to her. "Adrina, I'm sorry about earlier. I was just frustrated that's all."
"I would not have believed it myself if I had not heard it from someone I—" Adrina stopped midway through, finding it hard to say that one simple word and then she said it, "trusted."
Emel said nothing though his eyes never moved from hers.
Adrina said quickly, "Congratulations on the field promotion, sergeant. I heard that you performed well beyond Warmaster Gabrylle's expectations out Braddabaggon way."
Emel smiled, pride showing clearly. "It was unexpected but earned."
Hearing the heated discussion of a large group of men, Adrina turned. "What are they discussing over there?"
"Scouts. They left the group a few hours ago. Must've just returned," Emel replied. He cocked an ear in their direction, saying nothing for a time and then he told her. "Sounds like they're worried about something ahead. You see the three approaching just now with the gold lapels?"
Adrina edged toward Emel. "Garrison captains?"
"The one on the right with the grizzled beard is Captain Trendmore. The tall southerner is Captain Adylton. The other is Captain Ghenson. He's quick-witted. I like him."
Adrina grabbed Emel's arm. "Were they just talking about the ship from Wellison?"
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