by S. C. Stokes
Tristan thought about the First Captain’s statement for a moment and realized the counsel buried within it. “You know why I have called you here?”
“Indeed, Sire. I saw the men mustering outside. I take it to mean you have found where the Prince is.”
“I believe so. Sven tracked the Night Stalkers to Mizumura. We leave at dawn.”
“Then heed my words carefully, sire,” Dariyen said. “Ensure you do not bring the violence of the Night Stalkers upon the heads of the innocents still living in that city. Not all you will face are your enemy. You have a duty to protect your subjects, Mizumuran or otherwise. Take heed that your wrath does not spill over into their lives.”
Tristan nodded—he knew the censure was well deserved. In the aftermath of the attack on the Palace, Tristan had locked the city down for days while the Guard searched every nook and cranny with little respect for the people living in it.
Dariyen continued: “Your people love you, and they will forgive a small misstep. They will not forgive a massacre.”
“I understand, Dariyen—thank you. Your counsel, as always, is gratefully received. I will heed it. While I am away I will need you to see to the affairs of King’s Court. I also need you to watch over Linea and keep her safe.”
“Of course, your highness. You expect another attack?” Dariyen asked.
“It is always possible. I suspect our journey to Mizumura is either a trap or a distraction.”
“Then why go?” Dariyen implored.
“It is my son. The price of being wrong is more than I can bear. So you will remain here to watch over the city. If they try anything, you will be ready.”
“Very well, sire. May the Allfather watch over you and ensure your safe and speedy return to us.”
“And over you my friend,” Tristan replied, clapping his hand on the First Captain’s shoulder. “Be safe.”
Dariyen watched the King stride down the hall. “Oh, sire!” he called, bringing Tristan to a halt. “When you find them . . . grind them to dust.”
Tristan raised a hand in acknowledgment before he resumed his journey down the corridor.
Dariyen knew the King needed no reminder but in his heart Dariyen himself longed for revenge. The Night Stalkers had claimed the lives of many of his men since their attacks had resumed. The vicious brotherhood had no regard for the sanctity of life. Theirs was an existence that Dariyen would not miss when it came to an end.
Chapter 24
Tristan strode down the stone steps of the Palace to find his men waiting for him. Hundreds of King’s Guard stood at attention awaiting their liege’s instruction—even at this early hour they stood alert and ready. To a man they would ensure no harm came to their charge. Whether at home in the Palace or abroad, the King’s Guard’s duty was clear: they were to protect and preserve the royal family.
Behind the King’s Guard the yard was full to overflowing with men, and in the dim pre-dawn light it took Tristan a moment to recognize them. Each stood proudly in the battle leathers they had once worn at the siege of King’s Court. Although less orderly than the King’s Guard who stood before them, they were more numerous by far. At a glance Tristan supposed there had to be almost a thousand men crowded into the yard.
“The Guild Warriors, my liege”—Halmir answered the unasked question—”Although they prefer a different name now, sire.”
“Oh really? What would that be?” Tristan asked as he fought the emotion welling up within him.
“It appears they are calling themselves ‘The King’s Own’ now. When the army began to muster they began to show up. At first there were only a few, local men who had settled here after the siege, but soon enough they began to arrive by the dozens, traveling from as far as Belnair and Listarii. We had to house them in the town as the barracks were already at capacity. When we began marshalling this morning they were already here—I suspect Sven had something to do with it.”
“I’m sure he did. He must have sent word through his network of agents. He knew we would need every man we can muster.”
“Well, sire, we have three hundred King’s Guard, close to a thousand of the King’s Own and two thousand regular soldiers. The Night Stalkers won’t know what hit them.”
“Oh they will know, Halmir—you’d better believe they will know, and they will tremble at the sight.”
“I will make sure of it,” a soft voice spoke from behind.
Tristan turned to find his mother and father descending the stone steps of the Palace. “They will pay for what they have done,” Elaina assured him. “There will be nowhere for them to hide. I will cause the heavens and earth to combine against them, and when I am through they will be extinct.” Elaina’s declaration was without equivocation. There was good reason the inhabitants of Meldinar had learned to fear nature’s wrath. If the Mistress of Wind was moved to anger, the devastation she inflicted had proved severe.
“I don’t suppose you could lend a washed-up old man a sword, could you?” Marcus asked with a laugh. “It will feel nice to have a weapon in my hands again.”
“I’m sure we can find something,” Tristan replied. “Do you remember how to use one?” He asked with a wink as he moved out into the yard, walking through the ranks of men gathered there.
“Men of Valaar,” he called, “you know why we are here. My son, your Crown Prince, has been taken from us. We now know where he is being held. The Night Stalkers have him and seek to usurp the throne for their own gain. You know this enemy. You have fought them before. Time and again the Night Stalkers have plagued us. Some of you have lost family or loved ones to their grisly trade. Many of our comrades were slain in their attacks on the Palace.
“Warriors of the Guild, the King’s Own, you have fought them with me before. You faced them in the catacombs beneath Belnair—they are as duplicitous as they are deadly. We move against them not only to rescue the Prince but also to end the threat the Night Stalkers pose to this Kingdom, once and for all!”
A cheer broke out and Tristan had to raise his hand to silence the throng.
“To do so we will have to enter into their den and root them out. The fighting will be fierce and bloody. Some of us may die . . . but we do so knowing that with our lives we purchase a brighter future for our land and people—a future free from the fear wrought by these killers.
“I ask no more of you than I do of myself. I will lead the way. I only ask that you stand beside me now as you have in days past, so that we may triumph. What say you, men of Valaar? Will you stand with me?”
The yard erupted with cheers, and the uproar continued to grow until it carried from the Palace and spilled into the surrounding streets.
The citizens of King’s Court will need no rooster to wake them this day, Tristan thought as he reveled in the support of his men.
“Then ready yourselves. We leave at once. It will be a long march, but soon enough our foes will be before our face—at least for a moment before they perish beneath our blades.”
The cheering continued and Tristan made no effort to quell it. Instead he simply turned to Halmir and gave the signal to move out.
Chapter 25
Mizumura
The march from King’s Court had taken the better part of two days. Anxious as he was, Tristan was reticent to push the men too hard—he knew that they would need their strength in the battle that lay ahead. There was no chance that so large a force would be able to move undetected anyway, so Tristan favored morale and readiness over speed.
Tristan took great comfort in the presence of the Guild Warriors, or the King’s Own, as they were now to be called. The kinship he felt with them had been forged in the furnace of affliction. The King’s Guard served out of loyalty and duty to the throne. The King’s Own served out of a love for the man who had once led them to victory against the oppressive Gerwold.
It was early evening when the convoy reached the walls of Mizumura. The surface of Lake Mizuumi glistened in the moonlight, and the city itself
was nestled between the crystal clear lake and the Hikari Mountains. The lake was fed by the Eiengawa river which flowed from the mountains in the north. With the lake providing an abundance of both fresh water and food in the form of fish and other creatures, the Riverhold could withstand a lengthy siege.
Fortunately, with Velas in chains and the Mizumuran heir Hitomi in hiding, the city had fallen under the control of the Crown. At his approach the gates were thrown open and the King was given a wide berth as his men entered the city. Following the orders that had been laid out the evening before, the King’s Own took possession of the city, relieving the incumbent town guard of their duties and stationing themselves at every exit from the city.
Tristan’s plan was simple. Knowing the Night Stalkers were operating from within the city, he would secure the gates and flush them out. If they could not be drawn out into the open, he would find their den and crush them there. Once their hiding place was discovered he would root out every last trace of the foul brotherhood once and for all.
With the city under guard, Tristan had his men begin to gather as many of the citizens as they could muster. Some came out of fear, others out of genuine curiosity. This was the first time the new King had traveled to Mizumura. To do so under such circumstances and in the company of such a formidable complement of soldiers was both unusual and alarming.
The only space available in Mizumura that could accommodate a gathering of this nature was the market square, which adjoined the docks, a thriving hub of activity in the lakeside city. The enormous space was usually thronged with merchants and traders flogging their wares, but this evening the usual commerce had given way to the presence of the King.
When the market square reached its capacity Tristan climbed atop a wagon that the King’s Guard had commandeered for the purpose. Raising his voice as loud as he could manage, Tristan addressed the gathered citizenry: “People of the Mizumura, I regret that my first visit to your fine city is under such circumstances as these. I am sure rumors are rife about why I am here. Let me clear the air. Three weeks ago, my infant son, Marius, the Crown Prince of Valaar, was taken from the Palace.
“We know the attack was the work of the Night Stalkers, and we also know that they operate out of this city. I am here for my son. I will find him. If I have to search every home, tavern and alleyway myself, I will. I don’t wish to cause you undue trouble in the process, but he is the Crown Prince and the future of Valaar, and I won’t stop until he is safely back in my arms.
“Any who aid me in this endeavor will have my undying gratitude. Those standing about you are the King’s Own—they can tell you what it means to be considered a friend of the King. For those of you who care little for such things, I am also offering a reward. I will give a hundred gold pieces for any information that leads me to my son.”
“A hundred pieces,” called a voice from the crowd. “Anyone fool enough to take that will be dead by morning.” Tristan could tell from the agreement that resonated through the assembly that consensus seemed on the side of the bellicose voice.
Tristan nodded. “Make it a thousand then—and ten thousand for the man, woman or child who can lead me directly to their lair.”
This time the reaction in the crowd was different. For that much money a man could disappear and live a new and comfortable life in the city of his choosing. One could cross the Boundless Sea and start anew with that much gold in hand. Content that he’d made his point, Tristan got down off the wagon.
“Are you sure that was wise?” Halmir asked.
“Certainly, Halmir. That amount of gold will turn the entire city against the Night Stalkers. Someone in this city must know something about them. For a thousand gold, greed will outweigh reason or fear and someone will talk. Remember the time we spent in the catacombs beneath Belnair—we couldn’t have survived without the citizens of the resistance aiding us with food, supplies and arms for our war. These Night Stalkers will be being supplied by locals here in the city. We need to turn the entire city against them. Soon they won’t be able to move without being seen. Eventually they will slip up and we’ll have them.”
“I hope you are right, Tristan, because if the city sides with them it could result in a bloodbath.”
“How do you mean?”
“With the citizenry on their side the Night Stalkers would be free to move as they pleased. We’d face days and nights of hit-and-run attacks until they whittled our forces down sufficiently to overwhelm us with brute force. We have numbers on our side now, Your Highness, but please remember we are on unfamiliar ground with an uncertain and scared populace. You heard the voice from the crowd. There was no surprise at the assertion that the Night Stalkers are based here in Mizumura. These people know it and live with that fact every day. The Night Stalkers present a more persistent danger than your presence, my liege, and so they are likely to fear them more than they fear you.”
“It’s possible, Halmir. But for every scared soul there will be a greedy opportunist seeking to make quick and easy coin. Either way we’ll have widened our net. Now we must use it to catch our prey.”
“Very well, my liege—what would you have us do?”
“Establish a curfew. I want people off the streets at night. That way anyone moving through the city that isn’t one of our own will stand out. Establish our camp here in the market. Once it’s cleared of people it will provide an excellent field of view on all sides. If the Night Stalkers do make a move I want to be able to see them coming a long way off. They might be masters of stealth and shadows, but even Night Stalkers cannot hide in plain sight.”
“Very well, Your Highness. I will see it done,” Halmir replied.
“When you set the watch, see it’s double the usual complement and ensure they stay vigilant. The Night Stalkers will exploit any opportunity—those who fail in their duties will likely be the first to fall.”
“I will remind the men, Your Highness.” Halmir bowed graciously and set about barking orders to clear the square.
*****
The sound of footsteps roused Tristan from his slumber. He couldn’t recall having slept so heavily since the attack on the Palace weeks earlier. Clearly the journey served at least one useful purpose, Tristan thought as he sat up. He dressed and pushed aside the heavy canvas fabric that formed the tent’s door. Sunlight burst through the opening, momentarily blinding the young King. Blinking to get accustomed to the brightness, Tristan made his way out into the market square. The sun was up and the morning’s trade had resumed, or at least it had in the portion of the square not occupied by the makeshift camp.
“Morning, son,” Marcus called, waving when Tristan turned his direction. The sight of his father was still surreal to Tristan, who had seen him perish in the fighting at Listarii manor. He had stood over his body and wept. To see him alive and well was disconcerting but also brought him great joy.
Marcus waved his son over and handed him a plate loaded with freshly baked bread rolls and fruits. “Try some of these. The spices these Mizumurans mix with their flour are exquisite, and the bakers here are some of the finest in Valaar.”
Tristan took the proffered plate and sat down next to his father. Eagerly he bit into one of the freshly baked rolls. “Mmm,” he mumbled through a mouthful of bun. His father had not been exaggerating. The roll was delicious, as was the selection of fruit. Tristan polished off the plate eagerly.
“So, is all quiet on the front lines?” Tristan asked.
“Not quite,” Marcus answered. “It seems the Night Stalkers aren’t taking this incursion lying down. There were two attacks—one at the Riverhold and another at the city gates.”
“Two attacks and no one woke me?” Tristan asked angrily as he leapt to his feet.
Tristan might be the King of Valaar, but to Marcus Listar he was still a son. Marcus reached up and caught Tristan’s arm before pulling him unceremoniously back into his seat.
“The attacks were hours ago. Those responsible are long since gone
. There is nothing you can do now. Hence, no one woke you. Your mother is tending to the survivors—we must fashion a plan for dealing with these murderers.”
“How many did we lose?” Tristan asked.
“Almost fifty men. The attack on the Riverhold was beaten back with ease but I believe it was simply a feint to draw attention. The main attack was at the Eastern gate. Our men there were cut to ribbons. None survived. It’s likely those responsible have already fled the city.”
“But why wait until now?” Tristan asked. “They have had two days’ warning while we marched. If they truly feared our coming, why wait until now to flee the city? They could have been long gone if that was their intention. There would have been no need to wait.”
“Perhaps they did not expect you to gather the strength you did so swiftly. Normally it would take longer to muster an army. If it weren’t for the King’s Own you would scarcely have a third of the men currently under your command. Perhaps you caught them off guard with the size of your force, and, knowing they cannot triumph, they fled, seeking a new refuge.”
“It’s possible.” Tristan agreed. “Either way, the attack was a masterful strike.”
“Indeed,” Marcus agreed. “Regardless of the motive for the strike, the result is the same—we’re forced to divide our forces to deal with the possible threats.”
“Precisely. The attack on the gates left them with an open gate to flee the city. If we leave the city to pursue those who broke free we may be providing an opportunity for any who remain to do the same. We need to root out the Night Stalkers who remain in the city or pursue those who have already left. Our only choice is to divide our forces to deal with both threats,” Tristan concluded.
“That certainly is one option, Tristan, but it is not your only option. You know that their objective is to have you divide your forces. By choosing another course you will maintain the initiative and continue to keep them off balance.”