The Long War 01 - The Black Guard

by A. J. Smith

  Magnus glared at the smaller man. Nathan was not making idle threats or exercising his authority for the sake of it and Magnus detected a sincerity in the knight’s words. The Ranen had to conclude that Nathan was a professional soldier and meant every word he said.

  ‘I’ll say these things to myself in future, then,’ Magnus replied in his Ranen drawl.

  Nathan smiled in spite of himself. ‘Very well, just don’t think that I’ll let another word of disobedience pass. I can’t and I won’t. I’m not William of Verellian and you’ll find me less impressed with you.’ He turned sharply and motioned for Rashabald to lead Magnus behind him.

  At the top of the drawbridge stood a small group of knights and others, waiting for the king to arrive. Standing in the centre and wearing an ornately decorated red breastplate was Knight Commander Mortimer Rillion. He looked impressive, even to Magnus, and his high, crested helmet displayed old heraldry, indicating that the knight was of a nobler lineage than his fellows. His tabard had the same crossed swords as the other men, but it also had a laurel wreath placed above the clenched fist, the mark of a high noble of Tor Funweir and a distant relative of the house of Tiris.

  To the commander’s left stood Ameira the Lady of Spiders. She was standing a little way from the others, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the king’s party. Magnus thought he detected a note of jealousy in Rillion’s eyes as he looked at the Karesian witch. This again caused Magnus to question the motivation of the knights, as Ameira held a position on equal footing with Father Animustus, the Gold cleric who stood on the other side of Rillion. Two other senior knights of the Red stood with the commander in guarding positions and both turned with hard looks as Magnus approached.

  Nathan saluted the commander as he arrived and Rashabald handed the chain to one of Rillion’s guards.

  ‘My Lord Rillion,’ Nathan said, ‘the prisoner has been fairly well behaved thus far, though I echo Verellian’s words when I say that Castus has not endeared himself to the Ranen.’ The last was spoken with a smile and caused both Rillion and the Gold cleric to laugh quietly.

  ‘Very well, captain, please remain here in close guard. I don’t want a repeat of his performance in the great hall,’ Rillion said, referring to the knights who had died trying to restrain Magnus the last time he had been brought out of his cell. ‘Make sure he is well secured.’ The commander pointed at the leg and wrist manacles the Ranen priest wore, causing Rashabald to double-check the steel restraints.

  Magnus did not resist. He was glad to be out of his cell and trusted that Rowanoco had plans for him that didn’t involve his immediate death. The knights looked at him warily and he heard a few sergeants order their men to keep their eyes to the front and ignore the huge Ranen. He found this amusing, but didn’t let it show; nor did he let the enchantress see that he thought her the most dangerous player in this game of conquest and subjugation.

  Beyond the town, past the tower of the World Raven, Magnus could just make out the high rigging of tall ships in the harbour of Canarn, ships that had not previously been there. The banner of Tiris, a white eagle in flight, was caught in the breeze and indicated that King Sebastian Tiris, ruler of Tor Funweir, had landed in Ro Canarn.

  Rillion ushered Nathan, Rashabald and Magnus off to the side and stood with his chest thrust out at the top of the drawbridge. The columns of Red knights came to attention, their steel armour clanking loudly in unison, and Magnus began to see movement in the city. From the southern harbour people emerged, walking in ordered fashion with pennants held above the marching soldiers. Magnus narrowed his eyes the better to look across the town and was taken aback by the numbers of soldiers he could see approaching. He guessed that, alongside the tall ships, there would be troop transports nestled just out of view. The red breastplates he could see marching through the ruined city indicated an army of considerable size, perhaps five thousand men, with several distinct companies of knights of the Red accompanying the king. To the rear, supply carts and engineers could be seen, with sapping tools and smelting equipment – anvils, portable forges, blocks of steel and spare segments of armour – all the necessary paraphernalia of a sizeable army.

  This was an invasion force, and Magnus fidgeted uncomfortably as the army marched towards the keep. He could now make out individuals among the advancing knights – captains, lieutenants and several commanders, besides the rank and file knights of the Red. At the head of the column, seated on a white horse, one of only two men riding and not walking, was a figure resplendent in gold armour. On each side of his breastplate white eagles flanked an ornate crown design, and at his side hung a jewelled scabbard. He was a man of perhaps forty years, though he had neither scars nor a beard to lend any seasoning to his face, and Magnus was unimpressed with his bearing.

  Either side of the advancing column, Pevain’s bastards were peering out from between buildings to take a look at the king, and many of them seemed particularly interested in the Purple cleric who rode next to the monarch. Those knights in the keep who were close enough to see the riders began to whisper amongst themselves and Magnus heard the name Cardinal Mobius attached to the cleric. The cardinal wore unadorned steel armour, though his purple tabard, displaying the sceptre of nobility, was enough to make him stand out.

  ‘What’s he doing here?’ Rillion asked of Animustus.

  The Gold cleric was evidently distressed at the presence of the Purple cardinal, a man who clearly outranked him, but he mumbled a reply. ‘Not known, but it doesn’t bode well for your continued command, Mortimer,’ the fat man said.

  ‘Your highness, welcome to Ro Canarn,’ Rillion said with a deep bow, causing the knights in the courtyard to snap abruptly to attention.

  Magnus stood defiantly to one side, his restraining chain held by Sir Nathan, with Rashabald and two other knights standing in close guard. The Ranen priest didn’t turn away from the king or avert his eyes as did most of the Ro, but instead he glared down at the monarch, letting the hatred and anger show in his dark eyes.

  ‘Commander Rillion, my most loyal servant, it is a pleasure to see you again,’ King Sebastian stated grandly, letting his voice rise to be heard throughout the keep. ‘Brother Animustus, I hope that the assault on Ro Canarn has proved profitable for your order?’ He spoke to the Gold cleric in a tone that suggested to Magnus that the king did not hold the Gold church in high regard.

  ‘Absolutely, your highness, the traitor’s gold and valuables have been appropriated to the glory of the One,’ Animustus replied with evident relish, rubbing his chubby hands together and looking most pleased with himself.

  Cardinal Mobius handed the reins of his horse to a lesser Purple cleric who stood behind him and moved to stand next to the king. Rillion and Animustus both looked at the cardinal with a mixture of distrust and reverence, as if assessing where they stood in relation to the senior Purple churchman. Mobius didn’t pay much attention to the looks he received, but simply stood close to the king’s right shoulder.

  ‘My king, we should get the men settled before we deal with the pleasantries,’ he said quietly, before turning to Commander Rillion. ‘Mortimer, I assume that you have done as we asked.’ His tone suggested past familiarity between the two men.

  Rillion nodded, but didn’t take his eyes from the cardinal. ‘Of course, the muster field is clear for your men… though I wasn’t expecting so many.’

  The king laughed. It was a practised sound, which struck a slightly false note. ‘One cannot invade a country without an army, my dear Mortimer,’ he said, with just a hint of arrogance.

  Ameira shared his laugh and all the men present turned to look at her. ‘And you must be the Lady Ameira.’ King Sebastian reached for her hand and kissed it warmly, a vaguely euphoric look in his eyes, which Magnus had come to expect from those who fell under the sway of the Seven Sisters.

  ‘Indeed, your highness, it is a pleasure finally to meet you,’ Ameira said, holding on to his hand and laughing in a girlish fashion.

&nbs
p; Rillion looked decidedly jealous but remained silent. Only Animustus and Magnus noticed his reaction, and Magnus released a low snort of amusement. Sir Nathan tugged on the chain and stepped back to stand as close to the Ranen as he dared.

  ‘Keep quiet, priest, you’re in the presence of royalty,’ he said through gritted teeth.

  ‘And who is this brute?’ the king asked, doing his best to look imperious as he surveyed the Ranen warrior.

  Rillion motioned to Nathan for Magnus to be led forward and a tug on his chain brought the prisoner to within a few feet of King Sebastian. ‘This is Magnus Forkbeard, a Ranen priest of their Ice Giant. We believe he was Duke Hector’s co-conspirator,’ Rillion said, clearly still jealous of the attention Ameira was paying to the king.

  Mobius moved quickly to stand between Magnus and the king. ‘We should be wary of this one, my king. The Lady Katja warned us about him.’ He rested a gauntleted hand on the hilt of his longsword.

  Ameira smiled at the mention of her sister. ‘My beloved sister is most wise, highness, though Father Magnus can be of no real danger to us any more,’ she said cryptically. ‘Perhaps we should go and discuss what is to be done with him. In private would be best.’ Ameira still held the king’s hand and Magnus could see her fingers lightly caressing his skin as she spoke.

  Rillion clearly wanted to object, but he had simply to watch as King Sebastian Tiris was led away by the enchantress. Cardinal Mobius issued an order to a squad of guardsmen to accompany the king and the group quickly disappeared through a door and into the inner keep of Ro Canarn.

  Mobius then turned back to Rillion. ‘So, now that his highness is otherwise occupied, we can dispense with the feigned politeness, Mortimer.’

  ‘What are you doing here, Mobius? This is a Red matter. Don’t you have Kirin to hunt down or something?’ Rillion asked with venom.

  The Purple cardinal chuckled to himself and turned back to the lesser clerics behind him. ‘Brother Jakan, have the advance guard set up in the great hall in preparation for the king’s address to the troops. Send the rest of the knights to the muster field with Knight Commander Tristram.’

  The cleric to whom he had spoken was a young man wearing the purple sceptre of nobility and he saluted formally before turning to the other clerics and relaying orders to the assembled knights and guardsmen. Magnus thought it a strange hierarchy – Purple clerics in command of knights of the Red. All were churchmen, but he’d never seen cooperation on this level before. To his perception the Purple clerics were warriors but not soldiers, and he thought this work more suited to the Red knights already in the town.

  Mobius let his clerics move among the waiting army and, after a moment, stepped forward into the courtyard to stand with Rillion and Animustus.

  ‘You have had it all your way so far, killing and destroying to your heart’s content,’ he said out of earshot of most of the other knights, ‘but I’m here now and things will change. Do you understand me?’

  Rillion sneered at the cardinal and glanced at Animustus, making sure he was not alone. ‘You have no claim on me or my knights, Mobius. Be careful about throwing orders around,’ he said, with an intentional threat in his words.

  ‘This campaign will be conducted with efficiency,’ the Purple cardinal said with a glance towards the destroyed town below. ‘And preferably without mercenaries being involved. We have more than enough knights for the job and, with accurate intelligence provided by our Karesian allies, we are optimistic of a favourable outcome before winter. If we need additional forces, Lord Corkoson of Darkwald will be sent for with his yeomanry.’

  Magnus growled at the suggestion that this army was going to invade the Freelands of Ranen and he made sure the cardinal heard his displeasure.

  Nathan again yanked on his chain and barked, ‘Silence, priest, I won’t tell you again.’

  Mobius turned away from Rillion and stood facing Magnus, his expression one of haughty superiority. As a Purple cleric the man was of the highest level of Ro nobility, a churchman whose word was absolute law for anyone lacking royal blood.

  ‘Katja told me about you, priest, and about your brother. Algenon Teardrop isn’t it?’ he asked.

  ‘Lord Algenon Teardrop Ragnarsson, high thain of Fjorlan and commander of the dragon fleet,’ Magnus corrected, stating his elder brother’s title with pride.

  ‘Well, if we’re throwing around names, I feel I should introduce myself properly. I am Cardinal Mobius of Arnon, cleric of the sword and nobleman of the One God,’ he answered with equal pride. ‘You must be uncomfortable with defeat and even more uncomfortable with being paraded around as a trophy.’

  Magnus scowled, thinking the cardinal was stating the obvious, but he was at least being polite. ‘I have long since stopped expecting honour from these knights,’ Magnus said. ‘They are cowards and murderers, and their allies are vile rapists.’

  Cardinal Mobius nodded his head, considering Magnus’s words. ‘Well, worry not, priest, the invasion of your lands will not be undertaken by mercenaries and you have my word that all defeated opponents will be treated with appropriate honour.’

  Magnus growled again at the news of this invasion. He was unsure precisely what was happening here. The knights of the Red had, long ago, subjugated the southern lands of Ranen, but for centuries the Freelands had existed without interference from the Ro.

  ‘Why cause so much blood and death?’ he asked Mobius. ‘There is no goal or objective in my lands worth any of this. So why invade?’ Magnus was angry but, more than that, he genuinely couldn’t comprehend why the Ro would do such a thing. A war between the Ranen and the Ro would be devastating to both.

  Mobius flashed him a knowing look and directed a haughty smile at Rillion and Animustus. ‘Perhaps you should wait for the king’s address before you put too much faith in your countrymen,’ he said, with confidence.

  * * *

  The great hall of Ro Canarn was deathly quiet, with no man of Ro daring to speak until the king had broken the silence. He sat in Duke Hector’s chair, surveying the assembled knights before him. Most of those that had arrived with the king were on the muster field to the north of the town, but those within the hall still numbered close to five hundred, organized in columns stretching back to the pillared entranceway and filling the huge hall. Magnus was held at the front, his chain still in the hand of Sir Nathan of Du Ban. None of Pevain’s mercenaries had been allowed to enter the king’s presence and Magnus thought they must have been given the job of keeping order in the town – not that it would be a difficult job, since most of the populace, not already killed or imprisoned, would be cowering behind barricaded doors in their homes or else clustered in Lanry’s chapel.

  The display of ornate red, gold and purple armour was impressive, even to the worldly Ranen priest, and he imagined that some of these well-adorned men might have honour and brains, more akin to Verellian than to Rillion or Nathan. However, the power in the room definitely lay with King Sebastian Tiris and with Cardinal Mobius, who had adopted a subservient position on a lower chair to the monarch’s left. The Purple churchman held a reputation among the knights and, as Magnus looked across their faces, he guessed that the majority of them were scared of Mobius. Knight Commander Rillion was more his equal in status and the looks they exchanged betrayed a deep-seated rivalry. Rillion stood off the raised platform at the head of the column of knights and did not look pleased at having had to give up his seat.

  As with the last time Magnus stood in the hall, the presence that worried him the most was Ameira the Lady of Spiders, the Karesian enchantress, whose designs were being played out at the heart of this charade. She sat next to the king and the two exchanged strange glances and thin smiles while the knights waited.

  When Tiris stood up, all knights saluted with their fists struck solidly against their breastplates, and Mobius bowed his head slowly in a well-practised gesture of respect.

  ‘My knights, my clerics,’ he glanced at Magnus, ‘and my captive. T
or Funweir thanks you for your unswerving loyalty and diligence in bringing to justice the traitor, Hector of Canarn.’

  Magnus scowled but remained silent as the king continued.

  ‘However, much still needs to be done. The Ranen warlords have conspired with the traitorous former duke to supplant me and steal our land,’ he said in a voice that rose in volume to something approaching a shout. ‘And we will not allow these northern barbarians to act without punishment.’ He stepped from the platform and walked deliberately towards Magnus. ‘Tell me, priest, did you expect to get away with stealing my land?’

  Magnus looked around the hall and saw hundreds of eyes regarding him, waiting for an answer that would play to the king’s well-practised oration. Instead of growling an oath of challenge or attempting to break free, as he guessed they feared, Magnus leant forward and said, as quietly as he could, ‘You are in thrall to a Karesian enchantress, your highness. She will have you invade my lands and see thousands of your men killed to secure no objective and to advance no cause.’

  For a brief moment the king looked confused, but quickly regained his composure and glanced back up towards the seated figure of Ameira. They exchanged smiles of childlike adoration before Tiris turned back to Magnus and spoke again, this time with his chin raised in a self-righteous posture of authority.

  ‘Your poisonous words serve only to damn you further, priest,’ he said, loud enough for all to hear, ‘and your lands will come under the sway of the One God, as all lands eventually will.’ He then spoke more quietly, so that only those immediately around him could hear. ‘And the thousands dead will be your barbarian cousins who presume to defy the might of Tor Funweir.’ A look of euphoria entered his eyes as he stepped back on to the raised platform and began a lengthy and arrogant tirade against the Freelands of Ranen.