by Wilson Harp
“You do, Tal. You need to see him.”
Tal pulled himself off the floor and followed her out of the house. The rain had stopped, but a thick blanket of clouds hung overhead.
“Here he is,” Siande said.
“My lord,” Yelsit said. The young soldier went to his knees and pressed his head to the ground.
“Get up,” said Tal. “Don’t bow before me like I’m your king.”
Yelsit stood. “You will be. At least that’s our wish. For you to claim the throne and bring honor to your father’s lineage.”
“I am in mourning and do not wish to be tangled in whatever plans my mother has for Mestor.”
“Tal,” said Siande. “Listen to him. Let him tell you what is happening.”
Tal turned to go back into the house, but Siande grabbed his arm. “You will listen, you owe it to these men. They have risked their lives to come to you.”
Tal looked down the empty alley. “What men?”
“I’ve brought eighteen others. We slipped away in the night and made our way to Folsit.”
“How did you know I was here?”
Yelsit swallowed. “When I saw you at the gate, I knew you were running from danger. I thought of where you might go. This was the first place on the way north, to be honest. We were prepared to go to Ampheres if we had to.”
“And if you couldn’t find me?”
“We couldn’t return to Mestor without you, a rope and a burial in the ground await us for abandoning Praset. We would turn to Ampheres. They recruit mercenaries for their foreign campaigns.”
Tal walked down the alley and looked at the groups of men in cloaks with sacks strapped to their backs. They had the look and bearing of soldiers, no one would mistake them as simple travelers, not if they all moved together. They carried short spears and a few had bows, and they all looked at him as if he would command them to do his will.
Tal looked at Yelsit. “Tell me what has happened?”
“The High King arrived that afternoon. By then Praset knew you had slipped out of the city and he had Queen Jala declare you kinslayer as she addressed the people. She said you had always been jealous of Prince Olatic and desired the throne above all. You saw the opportunity to strike down your family and claim the throne on the happiest day of Olatic’s life. A ruthless and bloodthirsty act which revealed your true nature.”
Tal’s knees gave way and he leaned against a building for support.
“And the people? Did they believe her?”
“Some, for sure. They blessed the gods she and Prince Bator’cam were in the temple making sacrifices when it occurred. They also blessed the gods the High King wasn’t there, although the rumor spread you wouldn’t have dared attack with his guard in place.”
“What of the High King? What does he say?”
Yelsit looked over at his men. He took a deep breath and looked at his feet. “The High King married High Queen Jala after the funeral services. The tides of Baltek had not yet risen to claim the bodies of the King and his children, nor the High Queen and the Princess when the priests performed the ceremony and she was crowned High Queen of Atlas.”
“I can’t… I can’t…” Tal’s mouth could not form the words.
“What’s wrong?” Siande asked.
“He has nowhere to go,” Jubaas said. “Ampheres will not take him in, now. Nor any other kingdom. He has been named kinslayer by the High Queen.”
Yelsit nodded. “And if you do not take the throne, we face the same as you if we stay. If you decide not to fight for your birthright, then we will march on and find work which will take us to the barbarian lands. But we cannot stay without you as king.”
Tal turned and walked down the alley and entered the house. He heard Siande follow him and close the door behind them.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tal said.
“Then listen,” said Jubaas.
Tal spun about. It wasn’t Siande who followed him down the alley, it was the serious young scout.
“Those men are willing to fight for you. And they aren’t the only ones. Rumors of what happened in Mestor has spread, as has word of who entered Folsit the night of the attacks. If you were to raise a banner, you would draw men loyal to your father, and loyal to you.”
“What banner? The only banner I have ever had was the glory of Mestor, my father’s banner. The banner Bator now has.”
Tal rubbed his eyes. “It wasn’t Praset,” he said. “Praset was the one who planned it, and I have no doubt it was his spear which slew both Olatic and my father, but it was at the will of my mother. She had my father killed along with the High Queen so she could take her place and keep control of Mestor through Bator.”
Jubaas nodded. “She is as ambitious as Rosta herself.”
“More so, it would seem. Not even Rosta would betray Balket to his death.”
“And you are the only part of the plan whch went awry.”
“I was supposed to have been in the throne room that morning, waiting for the High King.” Tal looked into the fire and muttered. “I was supposed to have taken an arrow in my battle.”
“Galius met the same fate. Could she have planned this so long ago?”
Tal’s mind went back to when he was a child hidden by a curtain. He heard her words and understood.
“Yes. She had Galius killed in preparation for this day. She would have had me killed as well. I would suspect Olatic had avoided her traps as well, but he fell into it on the day he met his bride.”
“It’s a cold woman who would kill her own children for her own ambition. A dangerous woman.”
Tal nodded. “And yet, I don’t know what I should do.”
“Take your birthright. Wear it as a crown, and the throne will be yours.”
Tal stared at Jubaas. “I need the courage to do so.”
“No one can give you that courage, Tal. You have to choose it for yourself.”
The door opened and Toli pushed his head in. “A chariot and riders,” he said. He was out of breath and gasped for air. “We have shut the gate, but they will expect you, I’m sure.”
“Prepare the way, I will go there and speak with them.”
Toli nodded and ran back down the alley.
“Have you found your courage?” Jubaas asked.
“Not yet, but I would hear news from Mestor if I can.”
“Perhaps Bator’cam sits on the throne already.”
Tal shook his head. “No, all coronations must take place when the gods can see. It must be a clear sky, and the sky has been blocked since the hour of my father’s death.”
Tal marched to the gate, a tail of followers growing in his wake. Toli motioned to a place on the wall where Tal could hide behind some planks if the chariot had an archer.
Tal climbed the wall and Yelsit joined him.
“You’ll be seen,” Tal said.
“They know who I am,” he replied. “I have chosen my fate.”
The chariot slowed as it drew near. Tal noticed the woods on both sides of the road were dotted with campsites. Dozens of them. And men, close to a hundred, lingered near the edges of the trees. All of them with a bow in their hand.
“They come for me?” Tal asked.
Yelsit nodded. “They’ve heard of your prowess in battle and the way the gods bless you. They see in you the son most like King Fa’amuil.”
Tal turned back to the road. The faith these men put in him was unexpected. He had never laid eyes on most of these men, and likely they had never laid eyes on him. But now they stood with bows in their hand while professional soldiers rode into their midst.
The chariot came close and Tal recognized the driver. It was Praset.
Yelsit recognized him at the same time. “How did he come to Folsit?”
“I’ll ask him when he gets before the gate.”
“We could kill him now,” Yelsit said. “It wasn’t wise for him to come out with a small force.”
“He probably didn’t think a
chariot and ten horse was a small force. Not against a town with a handful of guards and a score of deserters without heavy spears.”
“First mistake I have ever heard of the general making.”
A stray breeze lifted the banner which Praset held aloft.
Tal and Yelsit both gasped at once. It was not the golden lion of Mestor on the field of blue, it was the golden crown and tridents of Atlas.
“He’s under the banner of the High King,” said Tal. “He knows we dare not attack him or we will become outlaws in all of Atlantis.
The chariot slowed to a stop near the gate and the horsemen surrounded it in a crude circle.
“Greetings Taldirun Kinslayer, I had word I would find you here. Holed up behind a wood fence with a rabble of woodsmen and farmers to protect you.”
Tal did not respond. He was relieved there were no bowmen, but Praset had a quiver of javelins. Tal knew to keep an eye on the general, lest he grab one and hurl it. Praset was deadly from this range.
“Come down, Tal. I will take you to Mestor and it will be over. I have been assured by the king it will be painless and you will have a royal funeral in the grotto if you will just surrender. You know it will be easier than opposing the will of the gods.”
“I could have you killed now.”
Praset laughed. “Not with my daughter here. You couldn’t do it. Oh yes, I know she is with you, she has betrayed Mestor as well. But perhaps you do not surrender because you fear for her safety. I will swear to the gods now if you surrender, I will not pursue her. She will be free to be a farmer’s wife or a whore, whichever temperament pleases her most. I care not.”
Tal winced as he heard Praset insult Siande so deeply. He knew she stood below him near the wall and could hear each word.
“Would you take your wife to Atlas?” Tal asked Praset. “Or has the High Queen ordered you to leave her behind in disgrace?”
Praset’s jaw tightened and his face flushed red. Tal knew he had hit the truth.
“I will have your answer, Kinslayer. Do you come with me now, or do I return to burn this collection of shacks to the ground?”
“Prepare your army, Praset. But do not stress them with a march. Return to the High King and tell him I intend to take the Alabaster throne from my brother the usurper. Tell him I will meet Bator’cam on the fields just north of Mestor. There we will battle and the gods will decide whose blood is worthy to sit on the throne, and whose blood will water the fields.”
“You’re a fool to face me,” Praset said. “I will lead the armies of Mestor against you and crush you under my wheels.”
“Do you forget your banner, Praset? You serve the High King now, not Mestor. Does the High King wish to involve himself in a war of succession for Mestor? Perhaps you should return with my declaration and let him decide where Atlas will stand.”
Praset looked at the walls of Folsit. He turned and scanned the wood lined roads. Tal knew Praset would be able to determine how many men Bator would face in battle from just a few simple glances.
“We shall not meet again, Taldirun Kinslayer. Not unless you are in chains ready to be sacrificed.”
Tal climbed down from the wall and heard Praset order his men back to the city.
“What will we do?” Siande said.
“We build an army and I take the glory that is my birthright.”
Chapter 17
Tal watched the men as they lined up. Some had served in a battle or two, but most had not. They didn’t have the basic discipline and Jubaas argued with some of the older ones about how to stand in formation and why they had to wait for his order to fire.
“The men aren’t listening to him,” said Yelsit.
“They aren’t,” agreed Tal. “But I need an officer for the bowmen and he’s the only one I can trust.”
“He needs to beat a few and the others will fall into line.”
“No, they walked in to join me. If I ordered beatings, they would walk out again. Those who have been in battle will show the way. Those who can’t or won’t follow orders can be dismissed if they become disruptive.”
Yelsit grunted. He had pushed for beatings from the hour of Praset’s departure, and had brought it up in every conversation with Tal for the last two days. But Tal didn’t have a couple of weeks to train and organize his army, he had a few days at most. He would need to march on Mestor with a small, half-disciplined force. His only hope was Bator would have to lead the forces of Mestor, and Praset would not be on the field to help him.
“Thinking about the chariots again?” Yelsit asked.
Tal nodded. “That will be a big problem. Even Bator can execute a plan as simple as ‘run them down with chariots’, and without any chariots on our side it’s exactly what we face.”
“We’ll have more bowmen than he will, can we find a way to use that?”
“Not without enough spear for them to stand behind. If we had a hundred heavy spear, then two hundred bowmen would be of use, but we have thirty men who know how to carry a spear into battle, and no heavy spears for them to carry.”
“Closer to forty men, now. A few more slipped out of the city and found us last night.”
It encouraged Tal his numbers grew every day, especially when those same men took away the number of soldiers available to Bator. But he needed chariots and spears.
A short horn sounded to the east, near the road to Mestor. Tal left the field where the archers practiced their maneuvers and went to see what news the scouts had.
Yelsit followed in Tal’s wake. The young man had taken it upon himself to be Tal’s officer, and he was very capable. A boy ran down the road toward the encampment and Tal quickened his pace to meet him.
“What news,” Tal yelled as they drew closer.
“A group heads this way. They are from Mestor,” the boy yelled.
“Soldiers?”
“No.” The boy stopped in front of Tal, he was out of breath. “Some men, but women and children as well. They have heard you are here and they come to join you.”
Yelsit laughed and slapped the boy on the back. “Good news! And how many are there?”
“A lot. Dozens at least, maybe a hundred.”
“It will be a lot of people to care for,” Tal said.
“Yes, but it’s more hands which can work as well.”
“Find places for them. Set up tents and shelters, don’t let them overrun the town.”
Yelsit and the boy headed to the main camp as Tal stared down the road. He hoped they came because they supported him, but he feared some just wanted to get out of the way of any fighting which would occur.
Soon the mass of people came into view, a collection of merchants and farmers, rich fabrics and rags. Tal counted forty, most in small groups of four or five. Families, not soldiers. He would press a few into the army as bowmen, and others could carry gear and keep the camp. But Tal needed soldiers.
Drops of rain thudded to the ground and Tal pulled his hood up. For four days now, since the hour of his father’s death, the skies had been laden with clouds and the rain would come in bursts. At first it was a long continuous stream of rain, but in the last few days, the rain would suddenly appear and then be gone within a few minutes.
He felt like the gods were mourning with him; the rain mirrored his grief. He spent little time asleep the last two days, there was too much to be done. What sleep he had was unsettled and full of nightmares. His only comfort was Siande, who mourned with him for the loss of her own father, as well.
“Tal,” Daelcor shouted.
Tal spotted the priest in the group who approached alongside an old man who leaned on a staff as he walked. Tal looked at the old man again and realized it was Meleus, his face pale and pained. He was glad to see his old friend, but concerned for his life.
“Meleus! Daelcor!” Siande shouted as she ran past Tal. She must have followed him to see the new arrivals, but Tal didn’t know she was there.
Others in the camp stopped their work and
scanned the group. They looked for friends or family who might have been in the city when the gates were closed.
“When did they open the gates?” Tal asked Dalecor as they embraced.
“This morning,” he said. “But they aren’t letting everyone leave yet. News has reached the city you have built an army and will march on Mestor soon.”
“That’s true,” said Tal. “I plan to move to the fields north of the city in two or three days.”
Daelcor looked around the sparse camp.
“And your army is unseen. It’ll surprise Bator’cam.”
Tal smiled and hit Daelcor on the arm. “More men will come. You’ll see.”
“My lord,” Meleus said. “It’s good to see you again.”
Siande held Meleus up as he limped forward.
Tal embraced him and kissed his cheek. “It is good to see you, as well, my friend. You worried me.”
Meleus smiled and blushed. “I didn’t mean to cause you concern. I know you have enough to attend to without worry for me.”
“Let’s get you into a tent so you can rest,” Siande said.
Meleus nodded and didn’t protest as he was led away.
“How bad is it?” Tal asked Daelcor when they had walked beyond hearing.
“It will be a slow recovery, but the infection is gone. He needs to stay rested and nursed until he can walk without a stick.”
“Then why did you bring him out?”
“The High Queen Jala has been sacrificing slaves without ceasing since you left. Many were servants who had shown some loyalty to you. I feared she would learn Meleus was in the temple.”
Tal led Daelcor into the camp.
“Pitros?”
Daelcor grunted. “He was put into service as Praset’s footman. He was, as you have always suspected, loyal to your mother above all else.”
“It’s become clear now why mother had me watched so closely. Why she had all of us watched. What do the people think?”
“Most don’t know what to believe, but they trust the gods.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means they will live with the reality they face. If you triumph over your brother, then you were falsely accused and you have claimed the throne through the gods’ divine will. If you are defeated, then you were a traitor who the gods handed to Bator’cam in divine retribution.”