The Risen Queen

by Duncan Lay

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Good. Send a squad back to the King, inform him the Rallorans are making a stand. Send a company to ride around the back, to see if there’s anyone else around.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Martil watched the light cavalry company start their ride around the hill with relief. They had only arrived a turn of the hourglass ago, having ridden hard through the night to get here. Luckily the pursuit had been slower than expected, a fact reported to them by Barrett’s feathered scouting system, and allowed them to arrive in a rush before the light cavalry reached Pilleth. Now the troopers would report the Rallorans were seemingly isolated on this hill, for the Norstalines who had ridden so hard to get here were sleeping, hidden in the wooded cutting to his left, as he looked down the hill. To those standing below, the wooded valley started on Pilleth’s right flank, and wrapped around to the rear, covering the far slope of the hill thickly in trees. That in itself would discourage cavalry from coming too close, but half of Martil’s Ralloran archers were in the treeline, along with every Norstaline archer they had, so any of Gello’s men who tried to investigate too closely would receive an unpleasant surprise.

  ‘They’ll take the bait,’ Martil announced. ‘We make too tempting a target to ignore. Just like the Berellians.’

  Merren stifled a yawn. ‘When can we expect an attack?’

  ‘It’ll take him most of the day to bring his men forward, to funnel them through the pass. If he’s a fool, he’ll attack late today. Otherwise, he’ll wait until the morning, when they’ve had a chance to rest and eat. Which means we have a chance to do just that.’ He smiled.

  ‘It’s good to see you smile again,’ she told him. He had seemed imbued with a renewed energy since their night together, although with Barrett, Sendric and a dozen others just a few paces away, she was not going to refer to it. She had known a relationship with him would only cause problems. But, afterwards, such cold, calculating statements were hard to justify. On the ride south, she had begun to think about life with him, and what it might mean. These were complicated thoughts; luckily there was so much else going on she could put them aside and tell herself there was time for that later. She could almost believe it, too.

  ‘Are you sure your plan will work?’

  ‘As sure as I can be,’ he admitted. ‘The only concern is if Gello does not set up his command post by those trees. But he will. The only shade around—I cannot see him giving that to his men or even his officers.’

  ‘Then all we have to do is wait?’

  ‘Aye. Wait and rest. If you will excuse me, I want to go and see Karia.’

  ‘Of course.’ Merren watched him go, and tried not to think about him. Not that everyone was going to give her the time to do so. What she really wanted to do was go to sleep but she could not—there were too many of her supporters gathered around wanting to speak with her and her brain was too full of worries and fear. Tomorrow, hundreds of men who trusted her could be dead. She could be dead. And, no matter what, her country would never be the same again. She had almost too many thoughts to fit into her mind. And it seemed everyone else just wanted to give her more.

  ‘My queen, if you have a moment…?’ Nott asked, before anyone else could speak to her.

  ‘Yes, Archbishop?’ She tried to concentrate.

  ‘Why don’t you sit down here, underneath your flag,’ he suggested.

  Gratefully she sat down, beneath where her silver dragon standard had been sunk into the soft grass. Local farmers must graze sheep up here, she thought, to keep it so short.

  ‘I think you need to rest, your majesty,’ Nott said softly.

  ‘Rest? I can’t rest! There’s too much to do, too much to organise—these men are here because of me, I cannot let them down! What if I missed something because I was resting?’

  ‘I know, your majesty,’ Nott agreed. ‘Sleep now.’

  He touched her arm and, almost instantly, she fell into a dreamless sleep. Carefully he covered her with a cloak, then stood with a groan.

  ‘She needs to sleep. You can’t order a queen to rest but, as an archbishop and a grandfather, I can bend the rules,’ he announced loudly. ‘Come back later. Sergeant Kesbury—I order you to stand guard over the Queen. No one is to wake her, whatever the reason. Understood?’

  Kesbury, who had been standing just behind the Ralloran battle line, a few paces away, saluted and brought his squad over.

  ‘Yes, sir!’ He signalled and the sleeping Queen was surrounded by a ring of armed Rallorans.

  Nott addressed the others, who had all been waiting to talk to Merren. ‘I think we should all rest. The morrow is likely to bring rather more excitement than we wanted, and we shall need all our strength for that.’

  He kept the smile on his face until all had turned away. They all thought this one battle would finish things—but he knew it would just be the start. He had done all he could to prepare these people. Now it was up to them.

  ‘Captain!’

  Martil reflected he would have to change his rank soon. That title was infuriating him now.

  ‘What is it, Conal?’ He kept walking.

  The ex-bandit stepped close, and put his hand on Martil’s arm to stop him.

  ‘I just wanted to talk to you about your plan,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Yes?’ Martil looked meaningfully at the hand.

  Conal swapped it for his stump. ‘Threaten to cut off my hand if I don’t remove it now. You can’t—because I haven’t laid a hand on you.’ He smiled.

  Martil shook his head. ‘I don’t have time for games, Conal. What is it?’

  ‘Your plan. You and Barrett taking on Gello and his captains. The Queen might have agreed to it but I’ve been a skilled liar for years and I know when you’re trying to pull the wool over her eyes. And Barrett supporting you! That wizard would claim the sky was orange if you said it was blue. You’re not coming back from this, are you?’

  Martil forced a laugh. ‘Good jest, my friend. But I intend to come back.’

  Conal did not smile. ‘You need to. You might be thinking no further than winning this battle but some of us have to consider what comes after, if we do win. This country is in a mess. We need you. This one battle will not wrap everything up neatly—this isn’t a saga. And what about Karia? You have to come back for her.’

  Something must have shown in Martil’s eyes then, because Conal reached out and grabbed him with his one good hand.

  ‘Don’t do it, man! There has to be another way!’

  Martil stared into the ex-bandit’s eyes. ‘There isn’t.’

  After a long moment, Conal looked away.

  Martil patted him on the shoulder. ‘Merren doesn’t need me. She’s got men like you. That day I threw a tankard of piss over you was a lucky one for Norstalos.’

  ‘Well, not everyone can boast about that,’ Conal replied with a smile, which quickly faded. ‘Listen, if you don’t come back, I’ll do what I can for Karia.’

  Martil nodded. ‘There is something else as well. I want you to stay with Rocus. The Queen might want him to charge out too early—if he does, many of those Norstalines are going to die. They’ll bite deeply into Gello’s men but then they’ll be stuck there and chewed to pieces. He won’t be able to see what’s going on, so make sure he ignores any orders from the Queen. Barrett can tell you when it’s time to attack. Understand? Don’t ride out until Barrett orders you, or, so help me, I’ll come back and kill you in your dreams!’

  ‘You can count on me,’ Conal whispered.

  Martil smiled. ‘I know I can.’

  All day Gello’s army straggled in, forming up below Pilleth. As Martil had predicted, Gello ensured his tent was placed beneath the trees, while his men had to find whatever space they could. There was a small stream that ran beneath Pilleth, and the men could at least drink their fill, although the rations were short.

  ‘Let them rest. Tomorrow we shall assault,’ Gello ordered lazily. ‘Make the preparations.�
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  The regimental doctors sharpened their instruments, and prepared themselves with many a fortifying drink of the alcohol that was supposed to cleanse wounds. No priests had been found who could accompany the army and were actually able to heal. It was a concern to the captains, although not to Gello.

  ‘Sire, we will need all our men for our invasion of the south. If we could save our injured, it could prove vital,’ Feld insisted.

  ‘Oh, very well. See what you can do.’ Gello yawned. ‘Get the camp set up. I don’t want the latrines so close this time, in case the wind changes.’

  ‘But, sire, they are already dug!’

  ‘Captain, do I have to think of everything myself? Get some of the criminals to dig a new one! And don’t bother me with stupid questions again!’

  Up on Pilleth, Nerrin made sure the men got as much rest and food as possible. The size of Gello’s army made for an imposing sight, and he was glad the Norstalines were hidden below, unable to see it. Even to veterans such as himself, it was daunting to see their sheer numbers. Twelve thousand men, near enough, facing about sixteen hundred. They might have the advantage of the heights, but that seemed scant comfort at the moment. But men who were resting were not men who were worrying about the enemy, so he made sure no more than one company was on duty at any time. He also kept a runner close, to send for Captain Martil if anything happened. The highest rank he had held was sergeant and, frankly, he preferred it that way. Being a captain was just too much responsibility. He wondered what Martil was doing.

  ‘So the princess married the miller’s son, who was really a prince, and they lived happily ever after,’ Martil read, and closed the saga with a sigh of relief.

  ‘That was good. And I can even read parts of it myself now, can’t I?’ Karia said happily.

  ‘Your reading is getting very good indeed,’ he agreed. ‘I’m very proud of you.’

  ‘How about a quick game of catch, then maybe we can play with dolls?’ Karia suggested. Now she knew she was going to be staying with Martil, it was a relief, although she had seen little of him over the last few days. In her view, that meant it was important to make up for lost time.

  ‘We need to have a little talk first,’ Martil said carefully.

  Karia pretended not to have heard him. ‘Little talks’ had never brought anything good in the past and she doubted this was going to be any better. If she carried on as if she did not hear him, and started getting out her dolls, perhaps it would never happen.

  But he picked her up and sat her on his lap as he leaned back against a tree. He had made sure there was nobody close. He had faced death before but even that did not scare him as much as the prospect of trying to say goodbye to her.

  ‘Karia, I want you to stay with me, I want us to have a little farm, where you can ride, help me look after the animals and show me how to play dolls like Merren does.’

  Karia nodded. That all sounded good, but surely he did not have a sad look on his face to tell her something happy.

  ‘But I’ve got to fight in a battle tomorrow. Something might happen to me.’

  ‘No! I can protect you, like I did before! Just keep me close, and I’ll make sure nothing happens to you!’ she cried.

  ‘I have to do something dangerous—go and fight some bad people—and I can’t take you with me.’

  ‘Why? Why do you have to do that?’ She did not really understand what he was saying to her, but the way he was saying it scared her.

  ‘Because of the Dragon Sword. I’m the only one who can use it.’

  ‘So use it to make everyone help us, instead of fight us!’ She thought if she could argue hard enough, he might stop being silly and go back to playing with her.

  Martil bit his lip. ‘I wish I could. But I cannot get it to work. It doesn’t like me, or the way I am using it.’

  ‘Well, it’s silly! I’ll tell it to like you!’

  ‘It won’t work like that.’ He tried to soothe her, because he could sense tears were not far away. This was hard enough as it was.

  ‘Then tell it you’ll change! Look, you have two swords, why not just use the Dragon Sword to protect yourself, and use the other one to attack people? That way it will like you!’

  Martil stared at her. He had been about to tell her that was impossible, when it occurred to him that it might just work. If the Dragon Sword did not like killing, then he could stop using it to cut people in half, and use it to cut swords in half instead. Unfortunately, her suggestion had come too late to have much effect, especially as his plan was to use the Dragon Sword to kill as many as possible before he himself was cut down.

  ‘It’s too late for that, I’m afraid,’ he sighed. ‘But that was a brilliant idea. I wish I could say to you that I will come back—’

  ‘Then tell me! Promise it, swear it to Aroaril!’ She beat her fists against his tunic-covered chest.

  ‘I can’t swear to Aroaril, because that would be wrong. I can’t lie to you,’ he said, as gently as he could, but she burst into tears.

  ‘It’s not fair! It’s not fair! I just found my daddy and now he’s going to leave me!’

  He grabbed her and hugged her close, feeling her small body shake with the force of her sobs. It took him a long time to be able to speak again, and he could feel the tears running down his face.

  ‘Karia, you saved me from my nightmares. You saved my life. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life looking after you. But there is something I can do that will win this battle, and will save the lives of all our friends. I cannot let people like Nerrin, Rocus and Conal die, just because I want to be with you, because I love you. I wish—’ he tried to go on but his voice failed him. He cleared his throat, blinked his eyes until he could almost see again and tried to speak. He was not sure if she could even hear him, because she was crying into his shoulder. But he had to tell her this. Perhaps, in years to come, she might remember it and gain some comfort. ‘I will be waiting for you on the other side. We will be together again some day.’

  ‘I don’t want you to die!’ she cried. She wished she could find the words to make him stay. She wished she could think of some magical way she could make him stay. But all she could think of was how happy she had been.

  ‘I want you to live,’ he said thickly. ‘I want you to grow up strong, and happy and free. And if my death can give you that, I will consider it a fair trade.’

  He could say no more. The thought of leaving her was giving him second thoughts about his plan to sacrifice himself. But there was no other way. He had to go through with it. He owed Merren, and everyone else, at least that much. Especially Merren. He held Karia close until, worn out by crying, she fell asleep in his arms. He could have put her down and tried to get some sleep himself, but he did not want to let her go while he still had breath in his body.

  17

  ‘Sire, I can heal the men,’ Prent announced.

  Gello, who had been entertaining Lahra, looked up in surprise at being interrupted.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he snarled.

  ‘Your captains were looking for priests who could heal the wounded. I can help,’ Prent repeated.

  ‘And you call on me to tell me that?’ Gello growled.

  ‘It is important, sire. Because the way I can do it is by offering blood for blood. It will heal the men but I do need to explain it to you first.’ His voice was eager but Gello could see his eyes kept straying to where the half-naked Lahra stood nearby.

  Gello sighed. ‘Leave us,’ he told Lahra.

  She wrapped what looked to Prent like the Royal Cloak around her shoulders, before ducking into the back of the tent.

  Gello watched her go, then swung to face Prent. ‘What are you blathering about, priest? I thought you told me Aroaril had refused to answer your prayers for years?’

  Prent smiled viciously. ‘He has. But I gain strength from another source now. A more powerful one. I do Zorva’s bidding and He rewards me with power.’

 
; Gello stared at him. ‘Are you serious, priest?’

  ‘It was the only way I could survive, the only way I could defeat the old Archbishop and his lackey. I can now provide you with power, as long as you allow me to offer blood to my God.’

  ‘Whose?’

  ‘Noble blood is best. And there are many you do not trust…We have been discovering many hate you and have been plotting against you.’ Prent looked over at Ezok, who had followed him into the King’s tent. The ambassador nodded. They had learned some interesting things about Gello from some of the older nobles, and decided to embellish them, to further manipulate Gello. ‘They remember the Dragon Sword refusing you. They talk about it still—get together and laugh at how you cried when the Dragon Sword refused you, how you ran from the throne room.’

  ‘What!’ Gello stormed from his seat and grabbed hold of Prent’s collar. ‘How dare you, priest!’

  Ezok saw Prent gathering himself to do something to Gello, so he jumped in between them, laying a cautioning hand on both their shoulders.

  ‘He is just telling you the truth, sire; the truth everyone else has tried to keep from you. We seek to help you, no more than that. With Zorva’s help, you can wipe clean your history, and revenge yourself on those who have laughed at you behind your back all these years,’ Ezok said into Gello’s ear.

  Gello turned furious eyes on Ezok.

  ‘And how do you know all this?’

  ‘As you commanded, we have been questioning those nobles whose loyalty is suspect, in order to find the traitor.’ Ezok bowed his head.

  ‘We can help you, sire! Zorva can give you everything you ever wanted!’ Prent said eagerly. ‘I have felt the power that flows when you spill blood! Let us rid you of the nobles who hate and fear you and, in return, we can both save your men’s lives and begin to heal your past!’

  Gello slowly let go of Prent, but did not step away.

  ‘So you cut a few lying throats, and Zorva gives you the power to heal my men?’ he said harshly.