by Candy Rae
Rilla identified the red triangle as the token denoting the Duchesne troops.
“To our right is Lindar Hanei, to our left the foot soldiers of the Militia. You understand?”
“I have studied tactics sir,” Rilla replied in a firm voice. “I understand what the tokens represent.” She pointed to the round green one behind that of the Lindar. There were more gasps from the men around the table and the Duke’s son only stopped himself from laughing with a great deal of effort. As he told his father that evening once they were alone, the sense of outrage and astonishment on most of the vassals’ faces was like as if they had been told that the heavens were about to fall in. He turned his incipient laugh into a cough.
Rilla glanced at him as she continued, “that’s cavalry, it’s got a white dot on it, which means it’s the Garda Heavy Horse. They’re trained to fight with the Lind. That’s good. They’re about two-hundred and fifty strong. Behind them, that black square is more Militia in reserve.”
Duke William cocked an eye at her. “You’ll do,” he said and continued with his interrupted briefing.
: I think he likes you : Zawlei mentioned and added : do I establish contact with the communications web now or wait until the man has stopped talking? :
: Best do it now : Rilla replied. : Who are our counterparts with Lindar Hanei? :
: Charles and Wlya. I’ll make contact with Wlya first. She is the nearest and then we can both merge in to the web :
: Go ahead : answered Rilla as she concentrated on what Duke William was saying. A lot depended on her ability to understand how the Duke intended to defend his sector of the ridge so she listened very hard.
Susyc Julia had divided the ridge into eight sectors, or divisions, each under the overall command of one senior officer. Each division contained elements of each type of soldier under her overall command, Infantry, Vada and Lindar and as many evenly distributed reserves that she could manage.
The majority of the Lindars and the Vada she retained in the centre where, if the Larg attacked true to past form, the initial waves of the kohorts would attack.
The Horse Cavalry she placed at each end, intending the army should form one unbroken line along the ridge and there were Lind stationed in the forests at either end to secure the flanks.
Duke William Duchesne commanded the First Division, the right wing, at the western edge. He had never commanded any troops but his own kind before and was finding the experience quite a challenge. After the tactical planning meeting broke up, he asked Rilla and Zawlei to stay behind. “I need to pick your brains,” he said by way of explanation.
“I’m at a loss about how to deal with the Lindars,” he admitted once the three of them were alone apart from the younger William who was listening from the entrance. “I don’t speak their language. You’ll have noticed that their commander wasn’t at the meeting.”
“Their Susa? Well, that’s what me and Zawlei are here for sir, in part to translate, to tell them where you want them to be, what they are to do and why.”
“Lindar Hanei and those in the reserve are not from Vadath,” said Zawlei, “so they only speak their own tongue apart from a few words.”
“One of the Vadathian Militia commanders could have translated, or Charles and Wlya,” Rilla continued, “but it would have taken too long and the Lind are not good with maps anyhow. They find it difficult to relate little pieces of colours and tokens to groups of soldiers and almost impossible to comprehend contour lines.”
“It took me many days to understand that a long blue squiggle is a river,” agreed Zawlei.
“So what do we do?” asked the Duke.
“They must be taken up to the ridge and it shown to them,” said Rilla in a firm voice.
“All of them?”
“The Lindar Susas and the Ryz Susas at least,” Rilla confirmed. “They can ‘send’ the images of what they are seeing to the Lind under their command.”
Duke William was relieved and looked it, “right, that’s what we’ll do first thing in the morning.”
Zawlei’s eyes took on that unfocused look which meant that he was establishing telepathic contact with one of his own kind. To the astonishment of the two southerners only a few heartbeats elapsed before he announced, “they agree. They will be here at first sun.”
Duke William let out an approving snort. “That was quick. I could get used to this instantaneous message sending which brings me to my next query. Why are there only one of you two? What do I do if you’re not available? If you or Zawlei were to be wounded for instance, how would I keep in contact with Susyc Julia?”
“That problem is being addressed,” Zawlei answered. “I believe Weaponsmaster Jilmis is intending to send another in case of need.”
“Another pair of cadets?”
“Probably not. They are all assigned as are me and my Rilla.”
“It’s likely to be one of the older pairs,” agreed Rilla. “Many came south with us. The Lind consider it a dishonour not to fight when there is need. They may be old but their mental facilities are as good as ever they were.”
“Can they fight?” asked Duke William. “I can’t spare any men to protect them.”
“What they lack in agility is more than compensated by experience,” said Zawlei, seeing Rilla did not know how to answer the question.
The next day, a short time after Rilla and Zawlei had returned to camp after escorting the Duke and the Lindar Susas to the ridge, another vadeln-pair entered the Duchesne camp.
Rilla and Zawlei had been correct in their assumption. The two were an older pair, the Lind carrying the man had many white hairs on her coat. She also sported a bad limp.
It was Duncin and Stasya, late of the Vada Supply Station situated close to Rilla’s home town and friend of one Captain Robain Hallam of the Argyll Garda.
The tent that had been allocated to Rilla was big enough (just about) for Duncin to fit inside too.
“Good job that neither of us is fat and that it’s summertime,” said Duncin as he laid his sleep bag down beside Rilla’s. “Stasya and Zawlei can sleep outside.”
“Zawlei does that anyway. He likes being outside in the fresh air and the tent is stuffy. So do I actually, but Duke William has forbidden it. Thinks I’m safer under the tent though how much protection a bit of canvas is as anyone’s guess.”
“I must admit the man impressed me,” said Duncin in a voice designed not to carry and with grudging respect. “Until recently I believed that Murdoch was a country full of barbarians.”
“Now they’re just different?” suggested Rilla.
“Quite so. He’s not the first southern noble I’ve met. I’ve met others, quite recently too. Friends of mine brought three of them to see me when they were passing my Supply Station some months back, an older man and a couple of younger ones. I must say I was favourably impressed. Certainly better than I had expected.”
Rilla started at him open mouthed.
“Your friend, it wasn’t Robain Hallam of the Garda was it? No, it can’t be, too much of a coincidence.”
“It was. How did you know?”
“I met them myself when they visited Vada last summer and later on when they returned. They were returning home.”
“When was that?”
“A few days before Julia and Alyei called the muster. There weren’t three southerners with Robain but four. They must have picked another one up during their travels. Robain was with them, my sister Tala too. I spoke to Robain and Tala and also the younger one of the southerners. His name is Walter.”
“Ah, young Walter,” Duncin smiled at the memory of the young man who had helped him with the cooking with little skill but much enthusiasm. “ I remember him. My Stasya liked him. Did they say where exactly they were heading?”
Rilla shook her head. “They were very reticent about their future plans. I believe they were taking a boat to the southern continent. I think Tala went with them but I can’t be sure. Why she should I can’t
imagine.”
“Tala,” thought Duncin aloud, “and your name is Rilla. You’re not related in some way to Robain’s girlfriend Hilla are you?”
“She’s my triplet sister. She’s somewhere up the ridge with the Garda Officer Trainees, in the second division under General de Groot. My other triplet sister is here too. She’s a volunteer nurse with Doctor Liam Hallam’s medical section and that’s another coincidence. Liam is Robain’s brother. Strange how our lives have become so intertwined.”
“Strange thing fate,” agreed Duncin. “I read a very long book once, when I was in the infirmary. It was full of dull stuff about philosophy and beliefs but one chapter was about fate. It was the only interesting chapter in the book. Did you know that a long time ago, people, they were called the Greeks, thought that there were three kinds of fate? Not our ancestors here on Rybak but centuries and centuries ago, before we came here, on Earth.”
“No I didn’t. What were these fates?”
“Let me see; the first they called ‘Clotho’, I always thought it a strange word, that was the fate of life, like a gossamer’s web, spinning life onwards.”
“And the second?”
“That was ‘Atropos’, it was the opposite of ‘Clotho’, the end of life, the severing of the web.”
“I don’t like that one,” said a decided Rilla, “and the third?”
“That’s the one I never really understood. If I remember rightly it was called ‘Lachesis’ or something like it. The Greeks believed that it governed what happened to people, I can’t remember the words exactly, it was a long time ago.”
“Try,” urged Rilla.
Duncin thought for a minute, “got it! It assigns destiny. That’s what I mean, this lachesis is apaw here. You, me, Robain, Hilla and the others, we were destined to meet, lachesis has made our lives intertwine. An odd thought.”
“It is. I’m glad you and Stasya are here. You’re a sort of link to my sisters. They’re here on the ridge but I can’t be with them but you know who they are.”
“I’ve never met them,” Duncin was confused.
“But you know of them, through Robain, he talked to you about us, it makes them seem closer somehow and that is what helps. I’m frightened Duncin. I’m about to fight in a battle!”
“Rilla, only a fool wouldn’t be frightened,” the understanding Duncin replied. “I’m scared too, so are Stasya and Zawlei. What you are feeling is perfectly natural and is shared by most of the soldiers in the army. They may sound as if they aren’t scared but underneath they are, scared to death and wondering if they will be brave enough when the time comes, if they will survive, if their friends will survive. You and Zawlei are no different.”
“I’ll do my best,” gulped Rilla.
“Nolind or man can do more,” he agreed, “now, you’d better brief me about the aspects of our job here that Duke William didn’t talk about. The kohorts are getting closer and our first detachments are moving up to the front line in the morning. Listen in you two,” he added to Stasya and Zawlei who were sitting enjoying the sun while their stomachs digested the large meal they had just consumed.
Rilla began to talk, filling in the gaps so that Duncin and Stasya understood exactly how Duke William intended to hold his sector of the ridge.
They spent the evening together in quiet companionship. Duncin kept her busy, checking over their armour and equipment, oiling the leather and polishing their swords.
When Rilla’s head hit her improvised pillow she fell into an immediate and dreamless sleep, tired out after all the experiences of the day. Duncin watched her sleep for a while, sorrowful that a girl, just into womanhood was about to take part in a battle that would be long, bloody and brutal.
The army was full of Rilla’s, young people determined to do their duty, to play their own little part in the war.
* * * * *
Elliot and Robain
“So this is Sunny Sahara,” declared Robain in disgust, “no one told me about the sand, the heat and the flies, especially the flies.” His voice was muffled, the two of them wore desert turbans, the headgear worn by those who lived there and designed to protect the head and to stop breathing in the sand and dust.
“Dusty Sahara my Father calls it, it’s a terrible place. I used to dread the time when as Crown-Prince I would have to take the Sahara chair on Conclave.”
“Could be a lot worse,” said Robain, “you’ve never been in the northern mountains. Just change the sun for wind and the sand for snow and you’d be about right and cold, you have no idea! No flies though.”
“I could be doing with a bit of wind and snow right now,” declared Elliot, “I’m so hot I’m boiling inside.”
“Think about how the horses must feel,” said Robain, “and are you sure you know where we’re going? It’d be easy to get lost, we could end up going round in circles if we’re not careful.”
Elliot nodded and pointed in a southerly direction. “Down there, it’s not far. See that large nose-pointed crag?”
Robain squinted in the direction Elliot was pointing. He could just make out the crag. “Your eyes are better than mine,” he said, “privilege of youth.”
“Not of rank?” quipped Elliot.
“Rank is of no consequence when we’re alone,” quipped back Robain, “remember?”
Elliot laughed. Their friendship was very close now, Elliot responding well to Robain’s ‘big brother’ guise. Robain treated Elliot much as he had Liam and Ansell and Elliot liked it.
“So what’s at the big rock?”
“Mining station, a big one. There must be about two thousand slave workers there. I thought it would be a good place to start. It’s further away than it looks, distances are deceptive here. We’ll not get there before tomorrow.”
“What is the mine?”
“Ore,” Elliot replied, “this area is riddled with them. I also know one of the overseers, sort of. His brother is the Armsmaster at Fort. He used to teach me sword drills.”
“So what exactly are we going to be facing there?”
“It’s a royal mine, that is it is owned by the Crown. About half the ore mines are. That’s the main reason why I chose it as our first port of call.”
“So you’re just going to ride in there, state that you are the Prince-Heir Elliot of Murdoch and that the slaves are all free so long as they join with you to relieve the Citadel and fight the Larg?”
“Approximately so, yes,” said Elliot.
* * * * *
The next morning Elliot took a great deal of care over his appearance. “I don’t want to look too rich and regal but I need to be regal enough so that they believe that I am who I say I am and that I can deliver what I am promising. Luckily Brent, the Armsmaster’s brother I told you about should be there and will be able to vouch for me.”
“And if he’s not there?”
“Then we’ll have to fall back on Plan B.”
“What’s Plan B?”
“I don’t know,” answered Elliot with a grin, “I’ll work on it while we ride.”
“Why doesn’t that reassure me?”
It took them the best part of the morning to reach the mine.
“They’re not fortified,” Elliot explained to Robain as they rode. “Most have a wooden palisade round the perimeter but I suspect it is more to keep the slaves in than anybody else out. The royal mines aren’t too bad.”
“Define bad.”
“Prince David, he’s my great-uncle, spent a lot of time here over the last ten to fifteen years regularising matters. He and my Father have put certain controls in place relating to the management of the crown mines and the treatment of the slave workers. The overseers are chosen with care as are the mine managers. That’s not the case in a lot of the privately owned mines. Father and Uncle David would like to make the controls part of the legislation but they have had to tread carefully.”
“The Dukes who rebelled?”
“The very ones.”
; “So that’s why you think the overseers and the managers won’t be antagonistic?”
“Exactly. They’re crown servants, paid direct from the royal coffers. The workers are not owned by them.”
“And what makes you think that when you tell all these slaves that they are free they will fight for you? If it were me I’d just say thank you very much, lay down my tools and depart.”
“Where would they go? Think logically Robain. My decision to free them isn’t altruism, we need them. First I speak to the managers and overseers, informing them that their positions and livelihoods are safe if they support me in my endeavours. Only then do I speak to the slaves and I’m going to tell them exactly what is happening.”
“All of it?”
“All of it,” affirmed Elliot. “First about the rebellion of my uncle and the fact that he has claimed Sahara. The result of that is that if he succeeds their lives will become pretty horrendous, like in the old days before my Father’s reform edicts. Then I’ll explain about the danger we are all in from the Larg. The Larg don’t make any distinctions between the free and the unfree. Many of the slaves have families.”
“That should get their attention.”
“Yes. Once they have understood that I will tell them that if they join with me to relieve the Citadel, to every man that volunteers, I will offer unconditional freedom and to their families.”
“An army of ex-slaves,” breathed Robain.
“A large army of ex-slaves,” said Elliot. “There are at least twenty crown mines in the area, I’d say about forty thousand slaves.”
“Untrained.”
“Armed with picks and shovels rather than swords, yes, but can you imagine? Even fifteen thousand could do a lot of damage. My uncle doesn’t have even a tenth of that number of trained men under his vassalage, nor do the other rebel dukes. A couple of thousand each at the most. The rest of their levies are farmers, tradesmen and the like and I don’t think many of them will be happy about the secession. Bad for trade and a disaster for stability. As we march through Smith a fair number of them will flock to our banner, anxious to remain citizens of a united Murdoch. Farmers and tradesmen are practical men.”