An Adept's Duty: The Scepter of Maris: Book Two

by James R Barnes

  Smiling hurt her face too much, so she settled for a soft "Thank you". She also wanted to know why. Not that she was not truly grateful, but it made her nervous that she did not know his reasons. Serena had always been one to speak her mind, and she saw no reason to stop now.

  "Why?"

  "A good question to start with... You're running from Xavier, or at least that is my guess judging by the rumors going around the last few days. For me, that's reason enough. Anything I can do to make sure he ends up disappointed is worth the effort, and considered time well spent." He flashed her a warm smile and then continued. "My name is Caleb, by the way. What might yours be?"

  "Serena," she answered. She saw no reason to not trust him after what he had done, so her answers would be honest. At least most of them would. There was no reason to speak of her relationship with the rebels.

  Caleb nodded an acknowledgment of her name.

  "You seem to be in a spot of trouble. I'm guessing you need to be out of the city... and since you're still here, whatever plan you might have had to that end didn't work out?"

  "Not exactly. I thought I would hide for a few more days and Xavier's paranoia might die down. That still might've worked if some soldiers hadn't stumbled across my hiding place earlier. Now that they saw me, I doubt that'll work."

  "You certainly stirred up the hornet's nest. Plenty of 'helpful citizens' would turn you in for gold or favor, too. Things will only get tougher, at least for the next few weeks or so."

  Serena choked down the despair once more. She would not give up, and she would not sit here in front of this man, understanding though he seemed to be, and cry about her woes. She would find a way. Her eyes had closed tight at the thought, and when she opened them Caleb was leaning toward her.

  "We need to take a look at those wounds, young lady. We can patch you up again and see if we can work out a plan. Why don't you think on how a traveling companion fits into your plans."

  It was surprising how gentle his hands could be considering how calloused they were. Carefully unwrapping her soiled bandages, Caleb worked methodically on each area, checking stitches and reapplying any ointments where needed. He went about it with a competence that suggested he had done it before. Serena was more than a little embarrassed when it came time to remove her dress, but he treated her with dignity and care. The fact that he did not wince and stare at her with pity the whole time made her want to hug him in gratitude, even if that would have been painful. If anything, anger was the emotion her wounds seemed to produce. She expected him to ask how they happened, but the questions never came. He just worked, mostly in silence save a few instructions to help him, until she was fully treated. Helping her ease back into a chair, Caleb watched her carefully until she was settled, and then moved over to the wood stove to start some water to boil.

  "I have some tea that I have always found soothing."

  "You mentioned a traveling companion?" Serena wanted to sleep, but knew she needed to work on getting out of Parna. Sleep would come later.

  "So I did. I do believe it is time for me to leave this fair city. I think it best I get far away from Xavier and his... people. I use that term loosely, mind you. Some of the soldiers he has in the Guard now are the kind of people that used to be arrested by them. The nobles are either too scared to stand up to him, or are the kind that enjoy the relaxed restraint. Cowards and vultures. Not exactly the kind of people I would call friends on any day; good or bad."

  "It's the same in the castle. Everyone runs around scared."

  "I've heard... I just don't think I can stomach what's going on around here anymore. I have friends up north. I think I'll get as far from here as I can without leaving Rennick. Though..."

  Caleb turned an intense look on Serena and for a moment she was worried. His gaze softened quickly, though.

  "I guess it's not exactly a secret that I have a daughter... maybe a few years older than you. She lives in Glendon. The town of Yost, right on Lake Fomar. I might just leave Rennick after all. Eventually anyway. Until then... traveling with a friend is always better than hitting the trail alone."

  "I... I don't know what to say... except that I would welcome the company. Especially if you have a way to get us out of the city in one piece."

  "I might have just the thing. It will mean letting a friend of mine know you're here, but I trust him."

  "Not really much choice, at this point. The longer I stay, the better the chance they'll find me." Serena shrugged, and then winced. "I'm trusting you."

  "Fair enough. My friend should be here in a few hours. You can rest in the mean time, then we will work out a way to get us gone from here."

  "I don't know how to tha-"

  Caleb cut her off with a wave.

  "None of that. We're in this together now, and we will get plenty of chances to help each other out in the coming weeks."

  Serena was certain that it would be more one-sided than that, but she only nodded. For better or worse, her fate was in former Commander Caleb Faber's hands now.

  #

  It would be a surprise if the strap of her pack was not chewed all the way through by the time Serena could come out of her hiding spot. It felt as though the wagon was hitting every bump in the road as they rolled away from Parna. As the journey had started out it was not so bad, but four hours later each jolt was pure agony. She had resorted to biting down on the strap to keep from screaming out her pain. It took a bit of effort not to curse Caleb's name right at that moment. She was forcing herself to think good things about him even as the cart finally came to a stop.

  Without having a way to see what was going on from her hiding space, Serena knew she would have to remain still and quiet until her new friends let her out. There were any number of reasons that could cause them to have to stop, and many of them were not good for her. The pain kept her distracted for the most part, but occasionally her mind would conjure up dark thoughts about being discovered. Many times these ended up with her trying to make a break for it, and being run down from behind. Just like sweet Elijah. Reliving the end of her youngest brother's life was always mixed in with her own imagined death. It was definitely not helpful, but she could not seem to stop herself. At least Lucas had been able to escape.

  The latch opened suddenly, or so it seemed to her distracted mind. Hands reached in for her and slid her out of the hidden compartment under the wagon. With the cart stacked high will all sorts of junk, the extra space at the bottom went unnoticed by anyone that thought to check the wagon for a person trying to sneak out.

  "Easy, girl. Easy. There you go..."

  "Here Serena. Have a seat."

  The cold, early morning air felt wonderful, though she knew that it would soon start to freeze her sweat. Right at that moment, she did not care. Caleb and his friend, Derek, guided her to a fallen tree and eased her down to sit on it. Letting out a grateful sigh, she sat there with her eyes closed willing the pain to let up. Success eluded her, but she still felt much better being out of that box. Her eyes cracked open again at the feel of something being draped over her shoulders, and she found Caleb leaning over her as he wrapped her carefully in a fur lined cloak.

  "We should be safe enough to rest here for a few hours. When the sun starts peaking over the trees we will get moving again. This time, you can ride on the wagon seat, or walk... if you would rather."

  Caleb was watching her, probably to assess her health. If she was not so tired and sore she would have straightened her shoulders and tried to look stronger. The last thing she needed right now was for him to decide she was too much of a burden. His face did not give anything away, one way or the other, but he nodded and moved off to the wagon and started removing supplies. Serena watched, slightly guilty, while Caleb set up camp and Derek tended to the fire and their meal. They were the ones that insisted she rest, but still it bothered her a little.

  Their plan was to head northwest, hitting small towns when they needed, and avoiding notice as much as possible. Der
ek had decided to join them. He was as sick of the way things were headed in the city as Caleb, and had flat out stated that he was going to join up with the resistance, a name he used for the rebels. Caleb had still not made it clear what he planned to do, and Serena was also being quiet as to her ultimate goal. They were both being cautious, it seemed, but she knew that eventually she would share her full story with the former Scout. His reputation was well known, as was his falling out with the Crown. If it was all some elaborate scheme, she doubted that she would catch on before it was too late anyway. A chance would have to be taken. Serena hoped her trust would be rewarded.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Preparations

  A wave of heat slammed into Barclay as he opened the door to the forge. Stepping into the nearly oppressive air of the blacksmith's shop from the frigid weather outside was almost like walking into a wall. It took a moment for Barclay to catch his breath, and he used that time to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim light of the space. Garret, the workspace's owner, was steadily hammering away with his back turned to the door. A small shower of sparks cascaded off of the orange metal in front of the smith who never paused in his work, even though Barclay knew the man had to have noticed the light from when the door had been open.

  "Master Smith, how goes your work?"

  Silence from the man, interrupted only by the loud clang from his hammering was the answer for several seconds. Barclay was not worried or offended. He had known and dealt with Garret for many years, and the man would not be rushed by anyone. The answer would come eventually.

  While he waited, Barclay surveyed the rest of the smithy. It was a sizable workspace, as would be expected of the Royal Armorer. With two other forges being manned and several work benches spaced around the shop, the space was a hive of activity. Barclay had never seen more than two of the hearths working at once, but considering what lay ahead, it was not surprising to see the extra effort. The King had essentially told the smith to do whatever Barclay asked of him, and that meant more weapons, armor, horse shoes... anything that might be needed to fight a war. This shop, along with several others had basically been conscripted in preparation of the coming hostilities.

  Barclay turned back to Garret just as the man let the hammer rest atop the anvil. A short wait later, just long enough for the smith to bury the piece he was working on back under the coals of the forge, and Barclay was looking into the squinting, haggard face of the Royal Armorer. Garret blinked several times in quick succession before coming to focus on who was in front of him.

  "Lord Marshall. Weapons and armor proceed apace. I traded off all the shoe and tack work to Amos Hanley. He's faster at that than any of my people, and we have more experience with weapons. Only thing slowing us down a bit are those spiked ball things..."

  "Caltrops," Barclay supplied.

  "Mmhh. You sure they're worth it? I got two senior apprentices working on 'em, but I could better use one on arrowheads."

  "I realize that they are unusual, but I have it from someone who has first-hand knowledge of fighting Goblins. Every time they engaged, they came bare of foot. Even after he started employing these devious little bits of metal."

  The smith led him over to one of the work benches while they were speaking and plucked one of the pieces in question up for them to inspect. Barclay could see where they might be a pain to construct, but he could also see how an unshod enemy could be seriously disrupted. Even a little bit of chaos, if employed correctly, could be devastating to an opponent. The metal bundle of wickedly sharp spikes poking out at all angles was small enough that it might be overlooked in the heat of battle. Especially if you could seed them ahead of time and throw a layer of dead leaves over them. A nasty little surprise.

  Barclay was about to inquire about numbers and when to expect them when Lieutenant Borden came through the door and made straight for him.

  "Lord Marshall. A new batch of reports arrived." Instead of saying more she handed him a stack of parchment. Knowing she would have arranged them with the most important on top, he did not bother asking any questions.

  The report in front of him was disturbing, but also a little puzzling. A scout they had slipped across the border of Rennick was reporting that the enemy forces were moving through northern Rennick, unopposed, but as of yet were still heading straight west and were still up near the foothills of the Hackles. It did not make much sense for them to march to the river, and then turn south to head for one of the larger ferry stations. He was sure they had fairly recent maps of the area, why had they not angled south to save time and distance? No matter how tough, how relentless they were, supplies would still be limited to a force on the march. Fortunately, it would not alter his plans for the moment. Glendon's forces were being marshaled near Carter's Landing, and the lakeside town in the north was ideally placed as a staging point for fighting anywhere in the northeast of Glendon. The only thing that would need to be re-examined would be the potential battlefield.

  Barclay gave a short, sharp nod to Garret, and then motioned Borden to precede him out of the smithy. Another look at the maps was in order, and then he would need to begin preparations for he and his staff to depart for Carter's Landing. It did not really matter how the enemy was going to cross the river, just that they would.

  #

  For several moments the pop and crack of the fire was the only sound in the room.

  "Well, are you going to tell me what your thoughts are on the matter?" Roderick was normally known for his patience, but after speaking these words to Barclay, the King immediately began to pace.

  "I might need a moment to process this... I guess there is not much choice, is there? We will need the magic users in this fight, and once they are seen the secret will be out. Soldiers gossip as bad as any fishwife. We will not be able to hide it from the people, and eventually we may end up fighting in or around the cities. We cannot have civilians panic and attack our own forces, especially if we are locked inside a city's walls, under siege."

  "Agreed. Now the trick is going to be how do we tell them? There is no way of knowing how anyone will react. I guess I will have to address the people here, and send out some form of written decree to the other cities."

  "I can have some officers accompany the messengers to reinforce what is being said. If we remind the civilians about the stories from the Orc war with Rennick, maybe that will help."

  "Right. I guess the first thing we will need to do is talk to your soldiers then. If we are going to ask them to inform the masses, then they should have good information. I do not suppose you would like to handle that part and get back to me?"

  Barclay actually grinned in reply to the King's light tone before speaking.

  "I would, of course follow the orders of my King, but this might have more of an impact coming from you."

  "Right... traitor. Well, set up an assembly of those you want told first. I will have someone along for a demonstration. We can call it a practice run."

  "I will have something ready for in the morning. In the interim, I have messages to go through waiting for me in my office." He was almost to the door when the King spoke again.

  "Has there been any word?" Barclay did not need Roderick to clarify what he meant; the same question had been asked just about every other day for the last few weeks.

  "Nothing yet, but we have no idea how long it would take to even make contact with the Dwarves, not to mention the amount of time it would take convincing them to help us. I will not give up hope; they will make it back." Desperation may have colored those words, but if the man in front of him noticed he did not comment on the fact.

  "Of course. You will let us know when there is any word from them?"

  "Immediately." He sometimes forgot how close the King and Queen were to his daughter, and how much Briannah must be worried about her best friend.

  Silence once again descended on the room after Roderick made his way out the door, and Barclay was content to pause for a moment and let it
soak in. There was much to do, but he needed a second to get his head right. A second was all he took, and then was back on his feet and striding briskly for his office. The constant worry, demand for his time, and focus required to plan a military campaign were starting to tell. Elena usually threatened or cajoled him into taking some time to let his mind calm somewhat, but she had left for Freemont over a week ago. His wife did extract a promise from him that he would try to do so, even without her around, and he hated to disappoint her.

  With his mind set, Barclay made his way straight to his office. After thrusting the door open he leaned on the frame and addressed the two startled officers inside.

  "Borden, Stewart. Find a stopping point and meet me in the training yard." He only hesitated for a second before spinning away and heading back down the corridor, but it was enough to see Stewart swallow hard and Borden grin fiercely.

  Captain Stewart was a competent swordsman, but knew that Barclay would push him relentlessly while training. It was not that the man was afraid, or lazy, he just had it ingrained in him from childhood that striking nobility carried a harsh penalty. That did not apply with training, and especially with Barclay, but some habits are hard to break. Barclay had every intention of breaking this one, even if he had to use lumps and bruises to do it. Stewart had worked hard to climb up through the ranks to Captain, but Barclay believed the man might have been able to accomplish it much sooner, perhaps as fast as Captain Bridgewater if not for this foible.