A Darkness Unleashed (Book 2)

by J. T. Hartke

  “Fair enough.” Lowering his head in surrender, Jaerd turned back to look at the forces spreading around him.

  The five thousand Gavanoran cavalry under Duke Aginor stood in solid ranks along his right to the east. Another eight thousand soldiers in gray gathered to his left, the entirety of the Free City guard. About three quarters had no mounts. They all look like new recruits, with their crooked ranks and horrified faces. He looked for their captain and his men in black. And it looks like Mandibor is now a General…Waters save us all.

  A different sort of soldier waited in perfectly mounted ranks on the other side of the main road. The Bluecloak vanguard had arrived last night under the command of General Shale Darax. Fifteen thousand heavy cavalry; the elite of the king’s army. And each as hard as any man at Highspur. ‘Twould be an honor to serve with them.

  Jaerd assessed the small group around him. Magus Britt watched everything with suspicion, looking for someone to snap at, while Brawny sat next to the front hooves of the Battlemage’s horse. Earl Boris held his jaw locked and his countenance fixed on the eastern road. Even if we are the rearguard, it’s honor enough just to serve under him.

  Tallen’s mix of friends clustered close by, the wizard, the paladin, and the rogue.

  And the healer…

  While they traveled, Maddi scoured the countryside when her eyes were not fixed on Tallen, and she was always a step ahead of him. Jaerd smiled, happy for his brother’s newfound love.

  A long, low horn called out from the patchwork of farms and forest to their east, followed by the hollow rumble Jaerd recognized as the pounding of thousands of feet and hooves. The Bluecloak vanguard snapped into even tighter attention, while Boris cracked his knuckles. Jaerd’s horse stamped and flicked its tail.

  A wedge of men in Fadecloaks rode out of the trees, followed by about a hundred Bluecloak knights, horse and man in full plate. Behind the knights came a mix of bannermen, each carrying the standard of one of the great houses of Gannon. The gold ship on pale blue of House Lindon was met step for step by the bannerman of House Belcester, with his seahawk on aqua and amethyst. The lords of the Snowbourne marched next, the crossed gray hammers on green of House Darax in formation with the green bridge on a brown field of House Vault, and the sable pine tree of House Norglenn. Other banners followed, some Jaerd recognized, some he did not.

  “I don’t see the Temple sigil,” Maddi whispered to Tallen, but loud enough Jaerd heard.

  “One message reported that the High Elder remains in Gavanor,” he told her. “I imagine the idea of journeying into the Wastes exasperated His Fatness.”

  Maddi’s sigh remained brief, before the wary look returned . “Hopefully the Lord Doctor was smart enough to do so himself.”

  The paladin fingered his silvery blade. “I assure you, Maddi. Tymin Marten will not harm anyone in my care.” He winked at her. “And you are in my care.”

  A dozen brass horns blared a wild flourish, and a circle of horsemen, each hoisting the rampant dragon of Gannon, trotted over the crest in the road. In their center, upon a pristine white stallion, rode King Arathan VII, slumped in his saddle, the Opal Crown tilted drunkenly to one side. As they approached, Jaerd saw the king had not shaved in days, and a fine white grizzle had gathered on his cheeks and chin. At Boris’ lead, the entire group bowed low in their saddles.

  The king nodded to Duke Aginor, who had ridden from his own command to greet his liege. “Aginor. Your son welcomed us warmly in your stead. I am glad to see my Western Warden guards his Realm well.” He gestured to the passing army. “I would that you take most of your cavalry and join my own. Leave one thousand for the Earl of Mourne to replace those he took with him to Highspur and lost.”

  Boris looked ready to chew limestone, while the duke bowed from his saddle. He and the western Barons rode off to gather the greater part of their forces to join the passing army.

  The king straightened a little before he addressed Earl Boris. “So you lose my fortress, and then gather me a paltry band of half-breed Free Citiers to help retake it.”

  Offense rising in the back of his throat like sour bile, Jaerd bristled at the comment, but Boris lowered his head even further.

  “I offer only what I can, Your Majesty. As my letters to you reported, Highspur was overwhelmed by superior forces and ultimate treachery.” He indicated some of the shorter Free City soldiers. “Though to paint an entire race with the actions of a few cultish madmen would be a terrible mistake.”

  The king folded his skinny arms. “I have corresponded with the Whelp King, Berik, and he intends to cleanse this Galadrian Cult from the Dwarven homeland. Therefore, the Dwarves of the Rock are too busy to join us in this endeavor.” The king unfolded his arms to wring his hands. “They promise more aid soon, but better we do this without them. It is the curse of our strength that we humans must bear the burden of freedom.”

  Boris looked up at King Arathan. “Many of the orc host died upon the walls of Highspur, and many more died when Kirath…burned.” The earl shifted in his saddle. “But if they have reinforced, we should expect near a quarter million of them to await us at the Gallond, where they seem to have drawn a line.”

  Arathan waved one hand. “Yes. This was all in your report.” He shifted his crown into a more stately position. “You are to lead the soldiers of the west and these ragtag Free City men as our rear guard. Your friends…” The king lifted a finger toward Tomas and Dorias. “…can remain with you. Glad they should be that we meet them again outside our realm, for their banishment still stands.” The king moved to urge his horse forward, yet hesitated and looked back. “Magus Britt, you will report to the Battlemage ranks at once. Your skills will be greatly needed in the coming battle.”

  The king smirked as he rode away to rejoin his bannermen and the Bluecloak knights. The vanguard on the far side of the road swept into the lead, clearing a path before their king. Joslyn Britt followed Arathan, a concerned flash of his eyes at Boris before he left. The earl only returned it in silence. Brawny hopped up with a similar look at Boris, and then trotted after the Battlemage, his nose searching the air.

  Jaerd watched King Arathan ride away, a sudden awareness dawning in his mind. That man despises his son! Why?

  A great procession of nobility passed by, carrying all the colors he had seen before and more. More Bluecloaks came, followed by thousands more men in the varied house colors of all the Eastern, Western, and even Southern Realms. Jaerd watched them all with scant attention, his thoughts focused on his commanding officer. He as much as admitted being Arathan’s bastard at Highspur, but the king treats him with disdain. Perhaps the king does blame him for Highspur, but I saw this in Daynon before. Jaerd squinted at Dorias, who pretended to watch the ranks go by as much as he did. The wizard will know more. I’ll have Tallen squeeze him for information.

  It took hours for the army to pass, line upon line of spearmen, swordsmen, and archers. The larger houses marched with more organization, while the lesser houses, some in groups no bigger than a dozen, shuffled along in a rough approximation of keeping time. A good deal of these men are no more seasoned than the Free City recruits. A growing fear snuck into the back of his mind. The orcs at Highspur were out for blood. They’ll eat some of these men alive.

  Another battalion of Bluecloaks trotted by, serving as outriders for the entire host. Thank the Waters for them… He shifted the cloak on his shoulders. …us I guess. They’ll keep this motley lot pasted together with sheer guts and fortitude.

  As the ranks continued to march by and the sun lifted to noon, Jaerd’s fears about experience dwindled, overcome by confidence in their numbers. “I’ve never seen so many swords,” he murmured as a battalion of infantrymen from House Bahalan of Forksmeet trudged by.

  “Then you know I haven’t,” Tallen added, his voice sounding relieved to have the silence broken by something other than marching and its accomp
anying orders.

  Dorias sat in his saddle with arms folded, reins hooked around the saddle horn, while his black mare stomped one hoof. “I’d doubt anyone in that army, save Arathan, has. Maybe not even him.” He looked to Tomas. “What is your count?”

  “Two hundred and twelve thousand with eighty-seven thousand on horse.”

  Gwelan passed a coin across the back of his hand. “Add at least another thousand mounted as outriders.”

  “With our force and more to come…” Tallen gestured at the still moving line of men. “…we should have them outnumbered. Right, Jaerd?”

  Giving his brother a reassuring pat to mask his disquiet, Jaerd forced his sense of unease back into the recesses of his mind. “No doubt, especially with what you pulled off at Kirath.”

  Tallen only nodded.

  The sun was well past noon when several thousand over-stuffed supply wagons trundled by. Earl Boris lifted his hand and their rearguard force followed at the back of the line. The Free City soldiers formed up and began to march behind the wagons.

  Tallen leaned close, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Why is the rearguard such a dishonor?”

  Jaerd chuckled. “Just give it a little while, especially with an army this big.”

  Within an hour, Tallen began to retch. Jaerd laughed again. “Ninety thousand horses leave a mess behind them, don’t they? And don’t think that every man here can wait until break for a piss either.”

  Maddi pinched her nose. “Someone is unhealthy, is all I have to say.”

  The breeze picked up as the day waned, and though it brought colder air, it carried away most of the stench. Jaerd shifted in his saddle, the ache of the first day just starting to creep into his hips, when a long, repeated horn blast sounded from miles ahead.

  “The call to halt.” Boris lifted his hand, and his own bugler echoed the front horns.

  At Boris’ signal the entire rearguard shifted to the north side of the road. The cold wind continued through the night, but there were still enough trees in the lands surrounding Novon for the army to build huge fires. They cooked herd animals brought on the hoof, as well as what little game was foolish enough to travel near the host’s outriders. The smell of roasting meat almost drove away the stench of unwashed men and horses.

  Jaerd sniffed. Almost…

  The second day passed little differently from the first, except for the waiting and pomp. The third day saw no change at all. The army moved more slowly than Boris’ detachment last autumn, but Jaerd knew that logistical complications multiplied faster than the number of men in an army. Cavalry horses only added to those problems, especially since fighting mounts could only scrub at the bare grass in the Wastes.

  Jaerd counted himself lucky if their end of the column got moving before midmorning, though he knew the vanguard marched before dawn. Almost five leagues of men, wagon, and horse take a while to get going. And if we’re lucky, we’ll camp close to where the front end camped last night.

  Their progress, however, was not intolerable. The spring rains had not arrived with strength enough to turn the ground to mud, yet winter had passed enough for their water supplies to avoid freezing. Halfway through the fourth day, the green prairie grasses and trees gradually disappeared, replaced by the gray-brown switchgrass of the Wastes. Jaerd’s horse soon lost almost all desire to graze whenever they slowed.

  With a thud of hooves, a messenger in blue with silver trim on his cloak rode up and handed Earl Boris a folded parchment. He pulled his horse into step with their unit and waited. Boris looked at the note, blinked, shrugged, and then pushed his black stallion closer to Maddi.

  “Here,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s from the king…for you.”

  Holding in a sputter of surprise, Jaerd studied at his brother’s girlfriend. Her pretty face coursed with anxiety, though he normally expected little emotion on her visage. He pressed his horse nearer.

  After clearing her throat, Maddi took the letter, popped the blue wax seal, and read the note. Her eyes flitted over the page, allowing no more emotion to gather on her features, while Tallen edged closer, close, yet not quite looking over her shoulder.

  She handed him the parchment. “Damn. This has to be Marten’s work.”

  Tallen scanned the note and looked at Maddi. “But neither of us sensed him in the army as it went by.”

  Maddi sighed. “There were far too many people to be certain.” She gestured at the others. “Let them read it.”

  The note passed through Boris’ hands before it came to Jaerd. It was addressed to Lady Doctor Maddrena Conaleon.

  His Majesty, King Arathan VII, Lord High Commander of this Host, does hereby request the presence of the honored Lady Doctor within his Royal van. His Majesty desires the healing he received on Midwinter night to aid against the rigors of the road.

  Her friend, the Magus Tallen Westar, is both requested and required to join her at their most immediate convenience. Their escort will await.

  Dread creeping into his heart, Jaerd handed the letter back. “You have to go. And we can’t go with you.”

  Tallen shook his head. “It’s a trap by the Lord Doctor to get us there alone, away from your help. He could have us arrested or even murdered.”

  Fireheart stamped as Tomas folded his arms. “I do not think so. If he wanted you dead it would have been done already.” He pursed his bearded lips at Dorias. “There could be a multitude of forces at work here.”

  The Ravenhawke’s face took on his familiar raptor gaze, his eyes flashing at the messenger. He kept his voice low. “Your secret could easily have gotten out from the guards we took with us to scout the Gallond.” He ran one hand through the silver wings in his hair. “Promises to my paladin friend notwithstanding, any man might tell his king about such dire information. Certainly one soldier in our escort has been dutiful enough to report your outburst up his chain of command. The king will have heard of how you are…wanted by our enemy.”

  Tallen sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  Dorias patted the young man on the shoulder. “Anyone in your place might lose their composure for a moment. You kept it together out there when we needed you. That’s what counts. I doubt I’d be alive today.” His frown deepened. “Though we must talk more about the dangers of the way you used Psoul.”

  Letting out his held breath, Jaerd leaned forward in his saddle. He squinted at Tallen and gave his brother a hard stare. “What exactly happened out there that you haven’t told me?”

  The messenger cleared his throat. “If the Lady Doctor and Magus wish, additional baggage may be brought to the front. A new tent and furnishings will be provided by His Majesty.”

  Jaerd examined the two silver stars on the man’s tunic. Captain’s stars – that’s a pretty high rank for a run’n’fetch, and he’s in a hurry. The handle of the man’s sword showed wear. He’s a fighter. That’s pretty rare for a messenger, too.

  Tallen and Maddi looked at each other, then at Boris.

  “You will not want to keep His Majesty waiting,” Boris told them. “We can send messages back and forth.”

  Tallen lifted one hand at Jaerd. “I’ll send something tonight to let you know what happens.”

  A knot of worry built up in Jaerd’s stomach. Every time he had left Tallen’s side, greater dangers had found his brother further down the road. But his orders bound him, more so than most of the others present. His heart sank as he lifted his hand in an informal salute. “Best of luck, brother.”

  Jaerd watched them ride off with the messenger, pulling out his father’s old spyglass at the end to catch a final glimpse.

  Cawing as he perched, the raven swooped down from the sky to alight on Dorias’ shoulder. The wizard reached up to stroke the bird’s feathers. Dorias kept examining where Tallen and Maddi had disappeared beyond the soldiers ahead, even though an unfocused glaze covered them. “The
y will be lucky to make the front of the line before nightfall.” He whispered to the raven then tossed him back into the sky. The bird winged toward the front of the long column. “Merl will watch out for them.”

  “What good can your pet bird do?” Jaerd grumbled.

  “You might be surprised,” Gwelan Whitehand spoke up from a few horses away. “That bird has saved each of our lives more than once. Your brother’s included, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Dorias pointed a blank stare toward the front of the army. “I can watch them, at least, through Merl’s eyes. And should anything become…complicated…” The wizard dropped his voice. “I can project a portion of my power through him. Not much, but perhaps enough to grant them aid should someone endanger them.”

  Frustration playing with anger inside him, Jared gripped his saddle horn until it creaked. It would have to be enough. For now. We will see what happens when the battle comes.

  “And if Marten harms either of them,” he whispered under his breath. “I’ll kill him myself.”

  “Behold, a king who shall give us our great peace at last. May he rule in wisdom for decades to come.” – High Elder Donas Miedrul at the formal coronation of Arathan VII, 424 A.R.

  “At least we’re not riding in horse crap anymore,” Maddi said to Tallen as she clung to her horse’s reins. She had never quite taken to riding, especially at high speeds. It jostled her about and set her stomach to fluttering. “I mean, that’s one good thing about walking into the dragon’s den, right?”

  Tallen only shook his head. “I’d take the horse shit if it only meant we were still with Jaerd and the others.”

  Maddi gave Tallen a soft smile. “At least we have each other.”

  He reached out his hand and clasped hers, though they could only grasp fingers for a moment as they rode for the front of the line, close behind the messenger’s flying cloak.

  For hours, they trotted past lines of men, horses, and supply wagons. Most of the soldiers kept good ranks, but in a few places they stretched out with several dozen yards between groups of men.