by John Migacz
CHAPTER 57
The meaty thunk when Balthus’ fist hit the side of the man’s head caused the others in the tent to wince. The man fell to the ground with a crunch and Balthus looked down. “I’m sorry, did that hurt?” He drove the toe of his boot hard into the prone man’s ribs. “Could be that hurt a bit too.” Balthus squatted next to the man. “I’m not in a good mood. I haven’t been for several weeks!” He grabbed the man by the hair and gave the head a hard shake. “Where is the other supply wagon?” roared Balthus.
“About three miles east, hidden in the woods,” gasped the man.
Balthus hauled him up by his shirt and dragged him out of the tent. He threw him down at the feet of the guards. “Have this idiot lead you to the stolen supplies and bring them back.”
The guards picked up the battered man. “What should we do with this scum after?” asked a scar-faced guard.
Balthus waved a hand. “I don’t care.”
The guards grinned as they dragged the man away.
Balthus re-entered the tent, shaking his head. “I can understand thievery, but I can never understand stupidity. Steal our own supplies then try to sell them back to us? What could he have been thinking?”
Dieya sat at a table studying a map. “Thinking isn’t one of his finer traits, I’m sure,” said Dieya without looking up.
Balthus turned back to the doorway and looked out at the mercenary camp. Smoke from hundreds of fires filled the late-morning sky. The stirring of men and luses gave the ground the appearance of a living creature, flowing with movement. Five thousand men. He hoped it would be enough.
Looking out over the horde, Balthus remembered how nervous he had first felt at being responsible for all these men. Now he only felt ill-at-ease at how untrained they were. His feelings of responsibility for their physical well-being had greatly lessened after dealing with their petty complaints and ill manners for weeks.
Balthus re-entered the tent and joined Dieya and Bo at the table. “Still think withstanding a siege is our best bet?” he asked.
Dieya nodded without taking his eyes from the map. “Yes, I’m sure it is. The knights will be worthless against the Sevoal. The grasslanders will simply outride the knights and shoot them down. The Sevoal have spent their lives riding and hunting wartanga from ehtaback. The mounted knights will just be larger game.”
Balthus nodded. “The knights won’t like it. I can’t see them standing wall duty very well. They will chafe and rant and want to be out among the Sevoal, feeling safe in their steel armor.” Balthus lifted his wine cup to his lips, but found it empty. He stared at it as if someone else had finished it off. If I keep this up, I will get like Lotho. He put the cup down.
“The knights have a different attitude now than they had a few days ago.” Dieya looked up and smiled. “Before the Arm left the King’s palace, I put on a little demonstration. With a Sevoal wartanga bow I put several steel-pointed arrows through an armored dummy. The ease with which the armor was pierced gave them a new appreciation for sturdy stone walls.”
Balthus grunted. “Nothing like showing a man his own mortality to get his attention. How about Baron Genardt? Has he fallen into line as well, or does he still think he can rout the Sevoal with a mild show of force?”
“No, the sacking of Eastedge Keep and a similar demonstration has him well in our camp. He is anxious to meet with them, though. He feels this attack was a personal affront.”
Balthus studied the map for a few moments. “Dieya, are you sure they will attack Glendell Castle? The Sevoal could just as easily move here,” he said and thumped his finger down on a southern pass, “and bypass the Castle. That will force us out into the open.”
“No. With us at their rear, we’ll just cut off their supplies. I will put to the torch any supplies they might think to gather as they advance.” He looked into the distance and clenched his fist. “They are in my kingdom now. If they choose the southern route of attack, I can promise you not a single Sevoal will leave the Kingdom alive.”
Balthus grunted in agreement but his thoughts were on Dieya. He would have to oversee Dieya’s commands to make sure they were backed by logic, not hatred. Oh great, another thing to worry about. He found himself reaching for the wine bottle again and stopped.
Rory’s entry into the tent was a welcome diversion.
“Rory!” cried Balthus. “Our master trainer returns.”
“Don’t start with me, Balthus. It’s been a tough morning. These folks don’t seem to understand anything more subtle than hitting someone on the head with the big hunks of metal they call swords.”
“Well, it looks like we will be in siege mode for the fighting so they won’t have to learn any maneuvers,” said Balthus. “They just have to know how to hit someone on the head with a hunk of metal and, as you pointed out, they already know how to do that.”
Rory sighed. “I have managed to sort out the archers in the group from the ones who don’t know which end of the bow to pull on. I actually got them to fire a salvo in unison.” He sat down and poured himself a cup of wine. “We seem to have attracted a lot of young men who know the plow better than the sword.” He hoisted his cup in a silent toast and took a long drink.
“Yes, what young lad could resist the lure of serving his country and earning some King’s gold,” said Balthus. “Even so, they will have their uses and there may be some fine warriors hidden in farmer’s garb. I was one once, and now look at me.” He stood straight and placed his hands on his hips. “Here stands one of Ravar’s finest warriors, preparing to lead a great host into battle.” He sagged and surveyed his friends. “Would one of you gentlemen tell me again how I got talked into doing this?”
Laughter filled the tent.
“Strikedag,” said Dieya. “I’m surprised and pleased at your knowledge of how to use what must seem like primitive weapons.”
“I was a survival school instructor on Alliance Base One for awhile. Had to master all types of weapons, from a rock to a Kali cannon.” Rory shrugged. “Always had the knack with any weapon.”
Adrianna entered carrying a large tray full of roast chops, potatoes and something green. “Time to eat, Gentlemen. You must keep your strength up.” She lowered the tray onto the table without hesitation and Dieya had to yank his map away.
Dieya shot her a look, then smiled. “I must say, this is the first campaign I’ve ever been on where I’ve gained weight.”
“You need more weight,” she said, poking him in the ribs.
“Whatever you say – Mother…”
She elbowed her way next to him and began to eat. The others fell to and no words were exchanged for a while.
“How’s Janelle doing?” she asked, after the first rush of feeding slowed down.
“She’s faring well,” said Dieya. “I had dinner with her again last night. She’s up and about and wanted to join us. I forbade it, of course, being her doctor and commanding officer.”
“So she will be here soon, I would guess,” said a smiling Adrianna.
“Yes. That is, she would have, but I refused to tell her where we are, and the Duke agrees.”
“The Duke, I’m sure, enjoys her company,” said Rory.
“The Duke has nothing but respect for Janelle – and perhaps a little fear,” said Dieya.
“It’s you he fears,” said Balthus, pointing a half-eaten chop at the Sorcerer.
“Perhaps that’s true, but if it helps smooth the way, so be it,” said Dieya.
Balthus winked at Adrianna, then leaned over the table. “These dinners with Janelle, are they private… affairs?”
Red blossomed for an instant on Dieya’s face then quickly dissipated. He stared at his food for a moment then looked at Bo. “So… How goes the training with your group, Lancelead?”
Balthus grinned at Adrianna.
“My group?” asked Bo. He, too, smiled at the subject change.
“My group is little more than a rabble.”
“Bo, rabble though they be,” said Balthus, “they will fight hard enough when the battle starts.” He reached for another chop. “And any man who can thump a Sevoal on the head will be a welcome friend.”
“These are not trained marines, Lancelead,” said Rory. “They are undisciplined, disrespectful and lazy. But they do have spirit and that is what I hope will carry the day. Lord knows, it won’t be their ability.”
“They have no unit cohesiveness at all,” said Bo. “I’m hoping that splitting them into groups as I have will at least build some teamwork. How much longer do we have for training, by the way?”
Dieya speared an apple with his dagger and thought for a moment. “The King’s Arm will be here in three days. We will march to Glendell Castle with them.”
“Dieya,” said Balthus, “that reminds me. How are we fixed for gold?”
“Fine. I have a goodly amount stashed in several locations. Why?”
“I need a large purse for a little something I want to purchase in Freetown.”
“What do you need in Freetown, Balthus?” asked Bo around a mouthful of bread.
Balthus leaned toward him. “I need a helmet with a big ‘shoot me’ sign for you to wear, because you haven’t learned to keep your shield up.”
Bo cringed at the round of laughter.
“It’s awkward, but I’m learning.”
“Don’t worry, Balthus,” said Rory. “After the first volley, it will be second nature.”
“If he remembers before the first volley,” added Adrianna. She glanced at Bo. “You know, it’s such fun to pick on the youngest member of the group.”
“It must be terrific fun the way you all do it so often,” said Bo.
“Sir Balthus,” said a guard, sticking his head inside the tent, “there is a group of mounted men heading this way.”
Balthus wiped his hands on his shirt and rose. “Shall we see who has come to pay homage to Sir Balthus and the Royal Sorcerer?”
“Probably another irate farmer and his pregnant daughter,” said Rory.
Balthus rolled his eyes. “Please, not another.” They rose and filed out of the tent.
Sixty mounted men rode toward the command tent, which was centered in the middle of the camp on a small hillock.
“Look at that big rider behind the leader. It has to be Oldwick,” said Balthus.
“The leader is a boy,” said Dieya.
Balthus shaded his eyes and stared at the leader. “Gerin! By my word, I believe it is Gerin leading Oldwick’s band!”
The column neared and indeed Gerin Jedar rode at the fore of the mercenaries.
“Gerin!” said Balthus as the men reined up near the command tent. “What are you doing here?” He glanced up at Oldwick, who was riding next to Eli Hawke. “And in such noble company.”
Gerin alighted from his luse and ran to Balthus, gripping his hand in warrior fashion, hand to wrist.
“Balthus! It’s good to see you again!” He went to Adrianna and gave her a big hug. Adrianna returned the hug and as they separated, she mussed his hair. He greeted Bo and Rory and turned to Balthus.
“I heard you called for warriors. So here I am.” He grinned, as did Balthus.
“Gerin,” said Balthus. “I’m so glad to see you that I will wait a bit before I take you out behind the tent and beat some sense into you.”
Gerin looked down and worried a rock in the ground with his toe. “I’m not really here for the fight, Balthus.” He looked up. “I just wanted to see what you’d say.” He grinned. “My father sent me to deliver his gift.”
“Gift? Boy, you should have told your father I needed no thanks for saving you.”
“I would have, except for the nature of this gift,” said Gerin. “I agreed you might need it.” He turned and held an outstretched arm to Oldwick and the other mercenaries. “My father wishes you and Adrianna to meet your new personal guardsmen. These men have already been paid and given instructions that your persons are to be safeguarded during the coming trials.”
Oldwick and Hawke alighted from their luses and approached. Oldwick halted in front of Balthus, drew his sword and held it upright.
“Balthus, I pledge my strength to you and yours. No enemy shall pass. No trouble shall harm you – for now. We will wait until after the battle to settle our private score...” As he swore this oath, his eyes darted over the group, searching for someone. “…and when our service has ended,” he said as he sheathed his sword and crossed his arms, “I will marry the Lady Janelle and shower her with fame and riches! Where is my bride-to-be?” He stared at the group, as if daring someone to deny him.
Balthus stood shocked, the thoughts of “settling” with Oldwick erased by the giant’s marriage announcement.
Dieya stepped forward. “I am –”
“I know who you are. I was at Castle Lothogorn and saw your handiwork. I am not afraid.” He glared down at Dieya.
Balthus shot a questioning look at Eli Hawke.
Hawke shrugged. “Beats me. He got this into his head after she bested him at the Blue Boar Inn. When we heard that Thorin Jedar was hiring men to be your bodyguard, Oldwick jumped at the chance, knowing that the Lady would no doubt be with you. Gerin told Oldwick her name.” He shrugged again, pulled out a dagger and began to clean his nails.
Dieya reached up and laid his hand on Oldwick’s enormous shoulder. “If you are fond of Lady Janelle, as we all are, I have grievous news for you. She was seriously injured in an attack by the Sevoal. She is being cared for at Duke Astard’s castle, but I am afraid there is little hope of her recovery.”
Oldwick staggered back, as if he’d been punched.
Balthus covered a smile with his hand. The Sorcerer was as quick-witted as anyone he’d ever seen. They would have to have that game of Shallcross sometime.
Oldwick straightened, drew his sword and held it high in the air. “I, Oldwick, will kill ten for each hair on her head! This I swear!”
“Oldwick, your oath is noted,” said Dieya. “I will see that it and your deeds are relayed to Lady Janelle on her sickbed.”
The giant nodded and stepped back. “We will camp by your tent, Balthus, and begin our guard duty now.” He gestured and four men dismounted; the rest of his men rode off to set up camp.
The guards took up positions at each outside corner of the tent with Oldwick standing at the opening, his massive sword held in his fist.
Balthus opened the tent flap. “Gerin, come inside and tell us all about this generous ‘gift’ of your father’s.” They seated themselves around the table. “Dieya,” said Balthus, “I don’t think you’ve met our young friend, Gerin.”
“Dieya?” The boy’s smile dropped and he stared at the Sorcerer with awe. “I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t know who you were.”
Dieya studied the young man for a moment, then smiled and extended his hand. “You know who I am, Gerin. I am a friend of Balthus and Adrianna, as are you.” Gerin shook the extended hand and Dieya patted him on the shoulder.
Dieya’s action gladdened Balthus. “So, Gerin,” he said, pouring wine all around, “if you’re not here for the fight, why did you come? Not that we aren’t glad to see you.”
The young man smiled. “Father suggested it. When you move east, I am to take ten of the men with me back to Freetown. He thought it would be good for me to learn what being with a band of soldiers is like.”
“And what have you learned?” asked Adrianna.
A looked of mortification slid over Gerin’s face. “I learned that I am not the rider that I thought I was.” He took a drink of wine to cover his embarrassment. “I held back the men a bit for the first two days, I’m afraid. It’s one thing to ride around our estate; it’s another to ride from sunup to sunset.”
“You got that right,” muttered Bo.
Gerin nodded. “I
also learned a lot just listening to the men talk around the campfire at night.”
“A youth who learns by listening?” said Dieya. “Balthus you are correct, he is a find.”
The group laughed at Gerin’s blush.
“Gerin,” said Bo, “I’m awfully glad you are here. Now maybe they will ignore me for a while and pick on you for a change.”
“Don’t worry, Bo,” said Balthus. “You still have plenty of faults for us to point out.”
The table erupted in more laughter, but Adrianna pursued Gerin’s statement. “What did you learn by listening?” she asked quietly.
Gerin took a moment to answer. “It’s hard to put into words. Listening to the men’s tales, I found out that life outside of my father’s villa is very hard and sometimes very brutal. I discovered that just surviving in this world can be a struggle.” Gerin turned to Balthus. “You pointed out the shortcomings of my sister but you failed to point out mine. I have lived a very sheltered life.”
“I know that, Gerin,” said Balthus with a fond look. “I also knew that it was a lesson you would have to learn for yourself. Go on, what else did you learn?”
“I found that being in the company of men is enjoyable – most times,” he said, a blush starting on his ears. “And it’s incredible how crass men can be.”
“Most times,” interjected Adrianna.
“The trip gave me time to see and muse on the plight of the common folk. I think a little education could really benefit the people of the kingdom.” His face lit and he turned to Dieya. “Sir Sorcerer, it is said that you have the King’s ear. Is this true?”
Dieya bowed slightly. “I do have his confidence, yes.”
“Then I wonder if you might broach an idea I had to the King!” Gerin’s words were wreathed with youthful exuberance. “Tell him he might think of setting up small schools in each district and letting children go to them for one day a week. I think it would bode well for the kingdom.”
“Gerin,” said Balthus, “you do realize you’re trying to use a legendary Sorcerer as a messenger boy?”
Gerin’s exuberance died and his face flamed red. The red deepened as Dieya stared at Gerin.
“I, ah… that is, ah, I’m sorry, Sir,” said Gerin. “I presume too much, Sir. I was just caught up with an idea. I’m sorry.” He looked down at the table and clasped his hands together.
Dieya looked at a smiling Balthus, then back to Gerin. “Gerin, that is a fantastic idea. I will certainly bring it to the King’s attention.” He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Have you given any thought to the curriculum?”
Gerin’s exuberance returned and the red fled. “Yes, Sir. I thought we should start with basic hygiene,” he wrinkled his nose, “– that’s something that’s really necessary – then math and reading. It should be simple at first.”
Balthus saw Dieya becoming as excited as Gerin. They discussed the pros and cons of teaching different subjects. Balthus joined the discussion and they didn’t notice when Oldwick stuck his head in the tent. He caught Adrianna’s eye and motioned her to come outside. Adrianna rose and left the tent.
She re-entered shortly. “Balthus, come quickly!”
Balthus followed her out the door. He returned a few minutes later with the strangest look on his face. It was such a look of astonishment that those in the tent ceased their discussion.
“Balthus, what is it?” asked Rory.
Balthus ignored him. “Dieya, you must come. They are asking for you! I’ve never seen them before.”
“Who, Balthus? Who is it?”
“It is the Arvari, Dieya. Dozens of Arvari!”
Dieya followed Balthus and Adrianna to the tree line where the Arvari leader waited.
“I asked them to follow me to our tent but they wouldn’t come!” Balthus sounded like a petulant child.
“The Arvari adhere to a strict custom,” said Dieya. “They must first be invited into the camp and asked to share our food.”
Dieya smiled as he recognized the Arvari leader. “Erondil!” They grasped each other’s forearms. “It is good to see the Arvari again. Please come into our camp. Share our food and fire.”
“Laere-Tere, it is good to see you also. My eldest son and I will enter your camp and share your food. I hope you will not take offense if the rest of the warriors remain in the forest. We feel exposed out in the open among a great horde such as this.”
“No offense will be taken.” He turned to Balthus. “Tell the men that these woods are off-limits. Leave the Arvari alone or face the consequences.”
Balthus nodded, but didn’t take his eyes off the woodland folk. He looked like a small boy who has just received a wonderful present.
Dieya noticed his expression and smiled. “Erondil, I would like you to meet my friend Balthus and his woman Adrianna.”
Balthus extended his forearms the way Dieya had done. “Welcome to our camp, Erondil. It would be an honor if you would share our food and fire.”
Erondil placed his hands on top of Balthus’ forearms. “It is our honor to meet a friend of Laere-Tere.” He bowed to Adrianna and turned to the Sorcerer. “Let me present my eldest son, Erondo.” The touching of arms ritual was repeated and Erondo bowed low to Adrianna.
Dieya led the two Arvari to the command tent. “To what do we owe this visit from the Arvari?”
“We heard of your notice asking for warriors. We could not help but come.”
Dieya frowned. “Erondil, your people need to rebuild, to grow stronger and multiply. This fight will be ours.”
“No, Laere-Tere, this fight is ours as well. Was it not the Sevoal who burned our forests? Was it not the Sevoal who burned our sacred groves?”
“Yes, it was. But the time for the Arvari to seek vengeance is not now. They should rebuild the tribes first.”
Erondil smiled. “I have brought over a hundred warriors with me, and many hotara – widowed grandmothers – have come as well. They are skilled at healing wounds. Even some of our far northern cousins have joined us. Each warrior’s wife is with child. With twins, in most cases, as Caranthir assures us. The tribes, thanks to your supplies, will flourish. We are only a token force, but one I hope you will accept.”
Dieya crossed his arms against his chest. “I accept your warriors. The numbers you bring are small, that is true. But each is an Arvari. That will count for much.”
They walked back to the tent discussing the role the Arvari would play in the coming battle.