Prince of Wrath

by Tony Roberts

  “My betrothed will destroy you,” Sannia said quietly in the silence that followed.

  Both men turned to look at her. She could only kneel or sit, since the cage was not big enough to allow her to stand. Her clothing was dirty and her face smudged with tears and dirt. Her hair, once neat and combed, was unkempt and greasy.

  “Silence, woman,” Lord Duras barked. “I do not know what our glorious heir to the throne sees in you, and if I had my way he would never see you again. Be that as it may, you have some value to us, if only as a bargaining tool. Once I remove that canine’s head from his neck, your use to us is at an end.”

  “You’re a brave man away from danger,” Sannia said in a low voice, “but I doubt you have the courage to face Jorqel man-to-man. You’re all bluster and talk, typical of the coward and bully we know you to be.”

  “By the gods, you’ll shut up or I’ll take the whip to you, you Koros whore!”

  “Do not touch her, Lord Duras,” Lombert Soul said, putting out an arm. “It will reduce her value to our mutual enemy. Untouched she is and untouched she shall be. Whatever your personal issues are with the Koros, take it out on them, not her.”

  “I am a Lord,” Duras growled, staring at the rebel leader, “while you are certainly not! I carry more weight than you, Soul!”

  “And I have six hundred men under my command whereas you have your two sons and nobody else. The numbers favour me.”

  The three Duras looked outraged, but Lord Duras growled, then muttered under his breath and stepped back. “As you say, this she-canine has more value to us untouched.”

  “There are other ways to ensure her co-operation than physically punishing her,” Lombert said. “You do realise, by the way, that she now has proof you are behind her abduction and are involved with the rebellion. If we lose, you lose your head.”

  “The Koros know I’m part of it anyway, why else would they carry out the raid on my estates? My wife and daughter are prisoners of that unspeakable tyrant and I will not rest until they are freed and in my arms once more! My two sons agree with me, don’t you?” he turned to the two young men behind him.

  The two, both dark haired and tall, nodded. One was the image of Lord Duras but twenty years or more younger, slightly thinner and more muscular, while the other was wider at the shoulders, shorter, and had a different cast of features. His looks came from his mother.

  Lombert Soul grunted and stepped up to them. His sword was hanging from his belt and he was dressed for battle. “I shall march on Niake in ten days’ time. It will take that long to gather sufficient supplies and to ensure the supplies of Leaf are in the city. My agents will begin the distribution, free of charge, to all on my command.”

  Sannia gasped in horror. “You would do that, to your own people? What sort of creatures are you? Are you so twisted with your own ambitions that you’d kill your own in order to achieve your own selfish aims? No wonder the army rose up against your House, Duras. You’re nothing better than a common criminal!”

  “Silence, whore! My House would never open their legs to a Koros like some common strumpet!”

  “Your daughter was prepared to, if I recall,” Sannia retorted, “and you were enthusiastically pushing her forward as a candidate. You’re nothing but a hypocrite, Duras, with no honourable trait whatsoever. The sooner you’re squashed the better.”

  “Your time is coming to an end, whore,” Lord Duras said dismissively. He pointed at Lombert Soul. “I need ten of your men to assist me in my mission. You can spare that many, can you not?”

  Lombert nodded. “We’ll go see my Captain, a man by the name of Wottek. He has the lists.” The rebel leader snapped his fingers at two guards to watch Sannia while he led the three Duras out of the side door, along a narrow passage that had rough rocky sides, which ended in a poorly built wooden barrier with a door inset. Through this they came out onto a wider cavern and cross passages.

  “What is this place?” Lord Duras asked.

  “An old underground river system, so I’m told,” Soul said. “Perfect for our base. We have all the approaches watched and under guard, and there are plenty of escape routes so we cannot be trapped here. Follow me, this way.” They passed a number of guards and entered Wottek’s chamber. The scar-faced captain stood in surprise at the entry of his boss, plus three well-dressed visitors.

  Clora, sat on his desk, jumped off and scuttled sideways, wary.

  “Who is that?” Lombert pointed at Clora.

  “Ah, boss, just a luxury I’ve recently picked up. Some fool uncle of her’s arrived from Niake recently. Took them in; he’s some sort of military trainer. She’s no good for anything so I thought she’d be best here with me out of the way of the men.”

  Lombert appraised Clora. She had definite attractions, and the rebel leader was piqued that his subordinate had managed to acquire her while he had nothing. Clora, sensing this was Lombert Soul, lowered her eyes and leaned slightly forward, revealing more of her cleavage to him. She glanced up and smiled shyly at him.

  Lombert’s lips twitched. It had been a long time since he’d indulged, and this woman was clearly impressed with him. Behind him, Lord Duras cleared his throat. Lombert recalled why he was there. “Captain, these distinguished men need ten of our men to help them in a mission to Niake, then to ride north. They must be good at riding and combat. I’ll leave that to you to select. Now, where are those figures I asked you for earlier?”

  “Ah, boss, I – uh – I’ve not got round to them yet.”

  “What?” Lombert’s face darkened. “I ask you to do a simple thing and you’re too busy with this floosy? Well then, you do the paperwork while I remove the distraction!” He grabbed Clora and dragged to her his side. “Now, Wottek, get Lord Duras here ten men and promptly, and I want those figures in one watch’s time, you got it? Now get on with your job.”

  Clora was dragged after Lombert as he angrily strode away, leaving the three Duras with a red-faced Wottek. He didn’t care a damn about his idiot captain’s feelings; he was there to do a job and if he couldn’t do it, then someone else would be put in his place and Wottek would be demoted to the ranks.

  Clora tried to keep up with the rebel leader, wondering what was going to happen to her. At least she had managed to make contact with her ultimate target, if only by accident, but now she had to gain his confidence. She knew how to go about that. Men were men.

  His room was comfortable, and she looked about, rubbing her wrist as Lombert Soul returned to his chair. It was with surprise she caught sight of Sannia kneeling in her cage, hands clutching two of the slats, staring at her with interest. “My lord,” she began, but was cut short.

  “You only speak when I ask you a question, understand that, woman. You answer my questions only. Now, tell me your name and why you are here. Do not pay any attention to her, she is my prisoner.”

  So Clora told him a condensed version of how she and her ‘uncle’ had arrived there. Lombert tapped thoughtfully on his desk top. Two guards stood close by. He looked at one. “Go get this Sinoz from the training ground. I wish to speak with him myself and see him. If there’s someone training my men I want to see who it is.” Damn that idiot Wottek!

  The guard left. Clora clutched her arms and felt vulnerable. She hoped everything would end up alright, but she felt things were getting very dangerous now they had found the man behind the rebellion. He would be very suspicious. She also didn’t want to end up the same as the other woman who was still looking at her. She wondered who she was.

  Lombert said nothing, merely contented himself by staring at her, his eyes roving over her body. She felt as if she were being mentally raped. She tried to relax, smiling and pushing her breasts forward. Lombert didn’t return the smile.

  A few moments later Zonis was pushed in and he glared at the guard, but then was peremptorily told to stand alongside Clora. He cleared his throat and stood as straight as he could.

  “So, a man with an incurable lung condition,�
� Lombert Soul said slowly, examining him. “And something of an addict, too, I believe?”

  “Painkillers. The only way I can function, lord.”

  “A noted military trainer, as well? We are honoured, if this is true, and lucky. Do these sort of things really happen? I mean, are you who you say you are?”

  Zonis caught sight of Sannia. He had to do a double take before answering Lombert. “Lord, I can only do what I’m good at. I was one of the best the Empire had, yet they cast me aside when I fell ill. My brother – the girl’s father – fell foul of the Koros and they had him put to death. So now we have fled for fear of our lives.”

  “And found our camp. I’m informed that you were on a wagon. Why did you cut across country?”

  “To avoid the army patrols between Niake and Aconia. We could go nowhere else, Lord.” Zonis shrugged and looked again at Sannia. Certainly a fine looking woman, and not a commoner, judging by the cut and quality of her clothing, and the way she held her head.

  Lombert followed Zonis’ gaze. “She’s none of your business, Sinoz. A prisoner of mine. Your niece, however, can perform for me a few duties that will make her useful to me, if you wish to remain with my army, that is.”

  “Lord, there is nowhere for us to go now; our homes are forfeit. My niece is her own person – I was merely helping her escape Niake and guarding her until we found somewhere to live. Excuse me,” he suddenly added, feeling a tickling grow in his windpipe. He put a hand to his face cloth and coughed a few times. Speaking at length always made him cough.

  Lombert pursed his lips. This man was no fool, or simple minded peasant. He had some class. The girl, though, was common. Good looking, yes, and had a wonderful body. “Your name is Marta, yes? Very well, Marta, then you will, if you wish to remain here, serve me as my personal body slave, and that includes looking after her over there,” he jerked his thumb in Sannia’s direction. “You feed her, clean her, change her when the need arises. I’ve got an investment in her and do not want her falling ill due to neglect. Clear?”

  “Yes, Lord. Am I no longer Captain Wottek’s?”

  “You never were,” Soul growled. “That man should not have done what he did. I run this army and camp, not him. You follow my wishes, not his, understand?”

  Both nodded.

  “You,” Lombert pointed to Zonis, “get back to training my men. Your niece will be looked after well here, have no fear on that. You do your job well, and you shall be rewarded.”

  Zonis smiled underneath his cloth. “I may only have half a year left to live, Lord.”

  “Then live what is left of your life knowing you have value and a use here, and that your niece will have a good life with me once I am Governor and Lord of Niake.”

  Zonis bowed and backed out. The guards shut the door behind him and he was escorted back to the main cavern where Kimel was waiting for him. Zonis hardly acknowledged him, as he was so deep in thought. Wottek would not have been pleased to have lost the services of Clora, and perhaps he could use that to his advantage. And now Clora was with the rebel leader which was good. If she did her job well, there may be useful information coming forth before long. All that remained was to somehow get information to Niake.

  When he got back to the courtyard he was surprised to see Wottek and three other men in a group standing to one side. He looked again and recognised the older of the three others. In his time he’d had crossed Lord Duras, and his heart jumped. Duras would recognise him and reveal his true identity. Then Zonis relaxed slightly. His face cloth would conceal his features, since only his eyes were visible, and it was about fifteen years since he last saw the old carrion eater, and Duras probably wouldn’t recall him anyway. Zonis had been general of the Niakian Army in the good old days, and Lord Duras had been nominal commander, since etiquette of the Empire had dictated that any army be led by a noble. Zonis had fought under Duras and found him to be a totally inept and useless tactician. Too many times they had clashed on issues and nearly always Duras had been proved to be wrong, yet Zonis had been blamed for every shortcoming, naturally.

  It had ended after another military disaster and Zonis had been cashiered, once more getting the blame for the setback, and Duras had emerged blameless, to continue merrily onwards bringing the military to its knees. Zonis clenched his fists. He badly wanted to eviscerate the old bastard, but that would be suicide and to no purpose. He was here to destroy or betray Lombert Soul’s army, and if he did anything stupid, then Clora would be automatically associated with it.

  Swallowing his bitterness, he led Kimel over to the four men who were discussing which men to accompany the nobleman and his sons. Zonis came to attention correctly and waited to be noticed. Wottek turned, his scarred face scowling more than normal. “Yes, Sinoz? What do you want?” The edge in his voice told Zonis he was in one stinking foul mood. Deprived of his play thing, clearly.

  “Uh, Captain, I regret what took place today. My niece was not best pleased, either. She apparently wished to remain with you, yet of course she had little choice in the matter.”

  Wottek spat on the ground. “I don’t wish to speak of that. Now do you have anything further to mention? If not, go train the men and stop wasting everyone’s time!”

  Lord Duras raised an eyebrow at Wottek’s tone. “Who is this, Captain?”

  “Oh, the uncle of that girl who was taken from my office today. Our new training officer, someone formerly in the military.”

  Duras eyed Zonis from a distance of six paces. Zonis kept his gaze neutral. If Zonis had any idea as to whom he was, everything was lost. “Why are you covering your face? You look like a damned Epatamian desert bandit.”

  “Lung disease, Lord Duras.”

  “You recognise me?”

  Zonis bowed. “A prominent member of our nobility is famous throughout the Empire, Lord, particularly someone as distinguished as you.” He almost bit his own tongue off in disgust.

  Duras smiled cynically. “It is gratifying to hear due praise from a member of society. At least you have one person here with intelligence and good manners, Captain.” He turned back to Zonis. “You remind me of someone, but it escapes me as to whom. No matter. You may go to your duties.”

  Zonis bowed and backed away, sweating. It had been a gamble but it had paid off. He’d really sent a barb into Wottek which was the whole point of what he’d done. If he could work on Wottek a little more, he may be able to use him. The captain wasn’t the most intelligent of men, and was clearly bitter and resentful.

  Kimel stumbled after Zonis. “Was that really Lord Duras?”

  “The one and same. What did you think?”

  “Scarey.”

  There really hadn’t been any expectation of any other response from the trustee, Zonis mused.

  ___

  A few dozen leagues away, three other people were riding gently through the wooded slopes of Bathenia. Jorqel led the trio, who comprised of Alenna Duras and one of his bodyguard. The woodland was bursting with life, buds opening, flowers in bloom. Insects buzzed about in huge numbers eager to feed on the nectar, and avians swooped here and there, picking off the insects.

  The woodland was not uniform in its density. It varied in thickness from very dense in places to very thin in others. Fallen trees marked where some of the vegetation had died, and here the daylight was stronger as sunlight could filter down to the ground, lighting up the plants that thrived there. The ground was undulating, with animal tracks running down the centre of areas where the vegetation was thinner. Where the canopy overhead blocked out the sunlight, there was no growth of anything other than the taller trees, so that progress was possible without having to detour around clumps of bushes, bracken or brambles, all of which grew here and there.

  Streams criss-crossed the woods, varying from small trickles, a pace in width, to large brooks, which only the equines could clear. Where these watercourses flowed, ferns and thick-leafed plants grew in abundance, and fallen trees were covered in fungi. In a few
places the dead trees lay across the streams and it was possible to cross the water at these points without getting wet.

  Jorqel set a fast pace. Alenna was competent in the saddle but not used to riding as often as either of the two men were, and riding through woods was not the same as going by road or across cultivated fields. Conversation was sparse; Alenna didn’t feel like talking and Jorqel was too intent on looking where he was going to make small talk. The bodyguard did what bodyguards do – guard the prince and make sure nothing threatened.

  Jorqel had picked this particular route as it had two distinct advantages; it was the most direct route to Niake and it also afforded him a concealed route away from prying eyes. His subordinate had donned the princely attire and had departed for Slenna with the captive Lady Duras and the rest of the guard that morning, so that anyone who saw the group would assume Jorqel had gone north, whereas in reality he was heading south under cover.

  He was in a hurry, hence the direct route, but as with all shorter journeys there were possible hazards. Bandits were said to inhabit the woods and a prince would fetch an enormous ransom should he fall into their hands. The prince was doubtful bandits were there anymore; Lombert Soul had been recruiting all able-bodied men in the region who had an axe to grind against the Koros, and bandits would certainly come under that category. So either they had joined the rebels, or had been driven out because Lombert would not want bandits in what he saw as his region; he was the only anti-governmental force in Bathenia that he would tolerate.

  They saw a few tree-rodents, their tails twitching as they clung to the sides of the trees, and once they startled a wild porcine that had been rooting around happily. It took off like the canines of the abyss were on its tail and vanished crashing through the undergrowth like a demented fantor.

  The land began to flatten out and the woods thinned, and suddenly they were out of the trees and onto farmland once more. Ahead, nestled close to the shore, sat Niake. They stopped and regarded the town in a line abreast, all silent for a moment. Niake was set on a coastal plain and was surrounded by a single wall, one of wood, and a few buildings stood out higher than the general level of the housing; a temple here, with its roof still blackened and charred from the riots, the governor’s residence in the centre, and a tower there.