The Red Knight

by Davies, K. T.

  “You excel at being wrong about so many things, Rufus.”

  “I was trying to be friendly. You should be pleased that I lavish time and attention on you. Play your hand well, and I might even be persuaded to sire a child on you one day; give your family a leg up in the ranks. Twins know, they need it. Why, even the bastard of a Corvinius would be a step up from a horse breeding gypsy and a barbarian Tamalak.”

  His words stung, but it would be a cold day in the Void before she’d let him see that he’d got to her. She smiled. “You might belong to one of the oldest houses in Antia, but your family tree has few branches, and your bastards are ten-a-penny, so if you don’t mind, I’ll decline your generous offer. Goodbye, Rufus.”

  When Alyda was allowed through the cordon of guards and onto the terrace, she saw King Daris talking to Commander Trease and Lord Costaine. She was glad he was busy; it gave her time to calm down, and let her anger at Corvinius dissipate. When they finished, Trease beckoned her over.

  “Good to see you again, Alyda. Your parents are well I trust?” the King asked.

  Alyda saluted. “They’re well, Majesty, thank you.”

  “Good, good. Please give them my regards. Now, I’ve been talking to Matlin about a new recruit that I’d like you to meet.” Daris smiled broadly. “I need you to take him back to Trelanlith and knock him into shape. Come, I’ll introduce you now, while he’s still sober.”

  Daris led her over to where Queen Thea was talking to a veiled Khusani ambassador, General Tyrus, and some other people who had their backs to her. Alyda got the sinking feeling that the ‘new recruit’ was the King’s eldest son, the renowned rake, Prince Talin.

  “It’s about time that he finished off his martial training, somewhere away from the…” the King coughed, “…distractions of Weyhithe. After talking it over with Matlin, I thought, where better to send my son than to the Hammer? ‘Tis only fitting that the future king serves with the best. I’ll warn you now though, he isn’t used to hard work, or discipline, or even getting up in the morning. Talin! Come here and meet Captain Stenna.” Daris called out to one of the people talking to Queen.

  Alyda registered that the King was still talking, but when the heir to the throne turned round, she stopped listening. The person who she’d spent the evening with, wasn’t simply Talin, he was Prince Talin; the heir to the throne of Antia. Swords, arrows, and lances she could handle, crushing embarrassment was a much more awkward foe to get to grips with. She felt such a fool. How could anyone fail to recognise the heir to the bloody throne?

  The Queen ushered her son over. “Please make sure he doesn’t break his neck, Captain Stenna, Talin can be quite reckless.”

  His eyes widened. “It’s an…er, an honour to meet you. Yes. You. Captain Stenna. Ali, Alyda Stenna. Who is…that is to say, who you are.”

  The King muttered something under his breath.

  Queen Thea frowned. “Tal, are you drunk already?”

  Alyda wondered if now was a good time to ask if he wanted to join the 2nd.

  Unlike his father, Talin had no desire to be a warrior. He liked to hunt and, upon occasion, play martial games, but he’d spent the time he should have been training with the 5th, whoring and drinking with Bear. As for the Captain of the Hammer, he’d only ever seen her from a distance, head to toe in steel, just another of his father’s implacable knights. If he’d known who was underneath all that tin, he might have taken more interest in his martial studies. He recalled hearing Trease say that she was ‘highly competent’. That was gushing praise coming from old Granite Face. If only he’d said she was beautiful and excellent company. Bear was going to laugh her arse off when he told her what had happened. He hoped the Captain would understand that he hadn’t intended any mischief by hiding his identity. He hoped the contrite smile he gave her would convey how sorry he was; it always worked on his mother.

  He was therefore disappointed to see that her face remained perfectly composed; untouched by emotion, as unreadable as stone.

  Chapter Three

  The 1st had been back at Trelanlith for a week. As the days passed, the Company slowly re-adjusted to peacetime duties. It wasn’t easy; the transition from battlefield to barracks took time. On this particular day, Alyda was struggling. Sunlight was pouring through her office window, drenching the room in syrupy, will-sapping warmth. She fought valiantly to muster some enthusiasm for going over the accounts with the Paymaster, but it was a losing battle. The air in her office was as thick as honey and when her vision wasn’t swimming, her gaze constantly drifted from the books to the window. Outside, knights were drilling on the parade ground, something she found infinitely more interesting than the ledgers spread before her. Malby cleared his throat. She looked round. The Paymaster was looking at her expectantly.

  “Sorry, Mal, what did you say?”

  Malby’s thin lips tightened. “I said, it would leave a balance of two hundred and seventy crowns, and eighty shillings rounded up. This doesn’t include the second quarter, when we were in Suvia. I’ve kept those accounts separate. Would you like to see them now or after we’ve been through these?”

  “Alas, it’ll have to be later—tomorrow in fact. I have to take one of the new knights out on the Chase now.”

  Malby pulled a face, but didn’t voice his displeasure. Like everyone else in the garrison, he knew who the new knight was. “Of course, Captain, but the sooner I have the final figures approved, the sooner I can send in the accounts. You know—”

  “—Saddles aren’t made for free, and every rivet and link must be paid for. Yes, I know Mal, I know. We’ll finish this first thing in the morning.”

  She knew that the Paymaster would prefer it if they didn’t do all that riding and fighting. It made the accounts untidy. Later that evening he’d no doubt air his grievances with his equally ill-used comrade, Surgeon Gedthis. They’d retire to the infirmary, as they did most nights, and put the world to rights over a glass of port or three—which, Alyda noted, had been accounted for as ‘medicinal supplies’.

  When Malby left, she took her sword from where it was hanging on the wall beneath the shrine to Sestrian and Ashania, the patron gods of Antia. Unlike the weapon, the shrine was thick with dust. She’d had the blade re-honed since Suvia, but she drew it out of habit and checked its edge. It gleamed, as clean and bright as the day she’d made Lieutenant, the day her parent’s had given it to her. It was a fine weapon, and had served her well since the Border Wars. Etched into the blade was an inscription that she didn’t need to read to remember: I serve the one, who serves the one, and neither shall be parted from the Other. Alyda rubbed her thumb over the incised words before sheathing the blade and going to meet the Prince.

  Lacgarde was leaning on the stable door, watching Talin from beneath the heavy slab of his brow as the Prince tacked up his horse. When he was done, the Company Standard Bearer grunted his approval. In the short time he’d been with the 1st, Talin had learnt that the knights had a specific way of doing just about everything, from saddling a horse, to buckling on a sword belt. There was the ordinary, inferior way, and then there was the Company way. The knights were ridiculously fastidious, but he couldn’t help but be impressed by their devotion to the Company they served. They ate, breathed, and slept the Company.

  Even though they’d only recently returned from campaign, the knights’ appetite for hard work and rigorous training was voracious. The contrast between the 5th and the Hammer couldn’t have been greater. He now understood why the 5th were regarded as the worst of the best, and how the Hammer had earned their fearsome reputation. Their loyalty and dedication bordered on the fanatical.

  Lacgarde pointed to a speck of dust on one of the gleaming stirrups. “I’d wipe that off, if I was you, Highness. The Company comes back dirty—it never leaves that way.”

  Talin brushed it off, doubtful that anyone else would have even noticed it. “How long have you been with the Company, Rann?”

  “Over ten years this su
mmer, Highness. I made Standard Bearer less than two years ago.” The big man beamed proudly, displaying the many gaps in his smile. “I came to the First from the army, chosen from a half dozen squires out of the Eighteenth, my mother’s regiment. It was a proud day for my family.”

  Talin nodded thoughtfully. “So you’ve known the Captain for some time?”

  “Aye. She was nineteen when she joined the Hammer, but she won her spurs a couple o’ years earlier, fighting with her father’s Free Company.”

  “She is young though, to be a Captain in the Guards.”

  Talin wasn’t trying to be contentious; he was genuinely fascinated by Alyda who, at only 25, commanded not only the Company, but also the loyalty and respect of veterans like Lacgarde. The Standard Bearer stiffened.

  “The Captain’s earned her commission and her command many times over with finer deeds than most who’ve climbed as high in the ranks. You should know that, if you don’t mind me sayin’, Highness.”

  Talin shook his head; not even he was thoughtless enough to forget that she’d saved his father’s life. “Forgive me, I’m not being clear. I’m not questioning her ability, or her right to command. I meant, what is she like as a person?”

  Lacgarde looked less than convinced by his assurances. It was going to take longer than a week for him to win the trust of such a close knit band of warriors.

  The knight leaned heavily on the stable door and scratched one of the jagged scars that creased his jaw. “She’s quicker to smile than she is to frown, but Twins help you if you cross her. She’s cocky, but in a way that lifts you up, an’ makes you feel you can do anything, not the way that makes you want to punch someone in the mouth, if you know what I mean, Highness?”

  “Aye, I think I do, remind me to introduce you to my friend Bear…or perhaps not, now that I think about it.”

  Lacgarde patted the grey’s neck. “It goes without saying she’s a fine horsewoman, nigh-on born in the saddle. You know her mother’s a Shemisana headwoman? That’s their version of royalty, so it is.” The Standard Bearer grinned crookedly. “She has a calm head and a cold heart in a fight. I’d not like to go against her.”

  Talin couldn’t imagine Lacgarde being wary of anyone. The man looked like a rough-hewn statue of a human, only on a much larger scale.

  “Don’t mistake me—she’s not the strongest knight in the Hammer. That’s me, despite what that pup Lorhine would have ye believe. Neither is she the weakest by a similar margin. She is one of the quickest and can see an opening and attack it faster than anyone I know. She never hesitates.” Lacgarde leaned in close. “And that’s a thing you’d do well to learn, Highness: see, think, and strike, all in a breath. If you can master that you’ll not go far wrong.”

  “Thank you Rann, I’ll try to remember.” Talin was about to lead his horse out of the stable when he noticed Lacgarde was scowling. “What is it?”

  “Begging your pardon, Highness, but where’s your sword?”

  “In my quarters—why?”

  The knight frowned. “You should have been told. All knights must go about armed, even within the Arth. It’s been so since the attack on your father, when Captain Aysgarthe was killed.”

  “I didn’t know. I’ll go get it now.”

  “You don’t have time. ‘Captain said she’d be here on the hour and she’s never late. If you aren’t here when she arrives she’ll have yer balls for earrings.” He unbuckled his sword and handed it to Talin. “Here, take mine. I’ve got a spare, but if you could get it back to me as soon as you can, I’d be grateful.”

  Talin accepted the weapon with a nod of thanks.

  There was no question that the Great Hall was magnificent. The fine oak panels were draped with the Company’s many battle honours. Ancient weapons were fanned above the fireplace, forming a steel crest around the huge sea drake skull that hung above the mantle. The hall was a sight to quicken any warrior’s blood, but for Alyda the spirit of the Company resided in the stables.

  Every block of stalls was immaculate, kept clean by the army of grooms who snapped to attention when she passed. The moment he heard her footfall, Lyco thrust his big, ugly head out of his box and snorted a greeting.

  New grooms soon learnt to keep a respectful distance from the warhorse’s stall. The first nasty bite was usually enough to teach them caution. Alyda had heard that sending the youngsters to his stall had become an unofficial welcoming rite. She’d let it continue, so long as nobody got hurt. The Company had many traditions and they all helped to strengthened bonds, which were vital to a fighting company. When the tide turned against you in battle, sometimes the only thing that got you through was faith in your comrades.

  She brushed the shock of mane from the destrier’s eyes. He snorted, but for all his show of annoyance, he lowered his head so that she could stroke the side of his face and neck. Her fingers found an old scar and traced its path down his neck to his shoulder, she leaned against him, felt his warmth, the pulse of his blood. She could have spent all day there, but duty called.

  “I’ve got to go now, old friend, but I’ll take you out tomorrow—today I need Nua’s speed.”

  When she reached the corner of the block where the Prince’s horse was stabled, she heard the familiar voice of her Standard Bearer. She wasn’t given to eavesdropping, but she deemed it a forgivable sin when she heard her name mentioned.

  When she’d listened to what Rann had to say, she had to agree that he was almost right, if a little over-dramatic. She’d certainly bollock the Prince if he was late, or if she found him unarmed, but she’d let him keep his balls, for a first offence, at least.

  The bell tolled the hour. She waited until the last chime was dying before rounding the corner. After all, she was never late. When he saw her, Lacgarde snapped to attention and saluted. She pretended not to notice that he was standing behind the stable door to hide that he was unarmed. She also pretended not to notice the distinctive meat cleaver of a sword that Prince Talin was wearing.

  A groom brought Nua over. Alyda swung into the saddle, aware that the Prince was watching her every move. When he mounted up, she noted that he did it Company style. Alyda let him ride out of the yard ahead of her. When he was a good way off, she turned to her Standard Bearer who was still loitering behind the stable door.

  “Tell Kieran I need to speak to him about the repairs to the tilt yard when I get back. Oh, and it would be a coin pouch. I don’t wear earrings.”

  Lacgarde’s eyes widened. He saluted so hard his knuckles cracked on his chest. “Aye, Captain. Tilt yard, coin pouch. Got it.”

  “Another fine horse, Captain Stenna,” said Talin as they rode away from the Arth.

  “Aye, she’s an excellent riding horse, but she’s too timid to make a good warhorse.”

  “Unlike that black demon of yours. I saw him earlier trying to savage one of the grooms. What’s he called again?”

  Alyda laughed. “He’s called Lyco. Nua gave birth to his foal last year. I hope it’ll grow to be a mix of their best traits and not a really big, evil-tempered bastard. I don’t think even I’d want to tackle that.”

  “What does your mother think? I hear she’s the expert.”

  “Dear gods, she doesn’t know that Lyco’s spent some of his precious Shemisana seed covering an Antian mare.”

  “Indeed? Does she judge Antian horses to be inferior to Shemisana bred animals?”

  “Little better than donkeys in her opinion.”

  Talin chuckled. “Donkeys?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “They look cosy, don’t you think?” Nevenna whispered to Della. The Heralds were in the hayloft, watching the Captain and the Prince ride out.

  Della shrugged and rolled back in the hay. “I wouldn’t say so. She looks bored, if you ask me.”

  “You sure that isn’t wishful thinking?” Nevenna teased. “I thought you’d got over your infatuation.”

  Della tipped straw from her boot and fixed her lover with a fro
sty stare. “Don’t try to provoke me. I just admire the Captain for what she’s achieved. I spent an entire year pursuing you before you even noticed I was alive.”

  “Oh, I noticed you alright. Always giving me the cow eyes and showing off. I just had to be sure you were serious, and not chasing me for a wager—or a joke.” She winked.

  Della sat back on her haunches. “Why do you say such hurtful things?”

  “Because you’re ten years my junior and as beautiful as sin. You could have your pick of the Company, but you chose me, and I’ll never know why. I’ve got piles older than you are.”

  “Piles? Urgh. You’re such a charmer.” Della leaned forward and planted an angry, passionate kiss on Nevenna’s lips.

  Breathless when they parted, Nevenna’s voice trembled. “Whatever your reasons, I’m glad of them. Wager or not, you mean everything to me.”

  Della picked a twist of straw from Nevenna’s unruly hair. “I remember the first time I heard you sing. It was up on the borders, when we camped in those ruins. The snow was falling so thick, and heavy; I thought it would drown us. You stole my heart that night and have kept it ever since.”

  “And I’m never going to give it back. Now come on, we really must get some practice in.”

  Della grinned and pulled off her shirt. “Oh, I intend to.”

  The rugged landscape of the Chase was the perfect place for the Hammer to hone their riding skills and train their mounts. To the east, the ragged shadow of Trelanlith forest blurred past as Alyda raced along one of the many narrow tracks that hatched the heather studded moorland. The nearby forest had been home to the first Arth, which had been in its prime many hundreds of years ago—when the Fey walked amongst humans and traded magic with the Clan Lords. Its crumbling ruins now lay in the forest’s jealous embrace, abandoned and almost forgotten.

  After a good long gallop, Alyda reached a ford across the river Tennen. She pulled up to let Nua have a well-earned drink and to wait for the Prince to catch up. She’d deliberately chosen some of the more challenging trails to test his skills, those where gravel ran like water and did not forgive a misplaced hoof, or a poorly balanced rider. He’d done better than she’d expected and had kept up for most of the way, but she’d lost sight of him about a mile back. Minutes passed and there was still no sign of him. Worrying images of the Prince lying in a ditch with his neck broken, flashed into her mind. She decided to go look for him when much to her relief, he cantered around a bend in the trail.