The Princess's Dragon (24 page)

“We have no such magic and I would not even know where to begin to find it. Ariva has not needed magic of any kind in so long that I fear we have all forgotten what it was like to use it. Even our own priests and priestesses find their spells lacking the strength and potency that history claims they once possessed.” The king dropped his head into his hands in defeat.

“We are not defeated yet, Your Highness. We also boast some of the best engineers from the southern lands. I have taken the liberty of shifting their responsibilities from civil projects to war machines, and our builders have worked tirelessly on their designs. I have also taken the liberty of sending for free mercenaries.” Lord Derek dared to hold up a hand to halt his king’s protest.

“We will have the capital to pay them when the first ginacite sells. I assure you 142

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the investment is well worth it. Our own men don’t stand a chance against veteran warriors despite the intense training we are giving the new recruits.

These soldiers served in the same wars I did, and I know many of them personally. I can assure you they will make a difference in our numbers; one of them counts as ten of our new soldiers in terms of skill and experience.”

“When do they arrive?” the king asked, resigned to the necessity of the expense.

The messenger grinned in anticipation.

“One of them is already here, Your Highness,” he said bowing.

“The others should arrive at Ulrick Pass within a few cycles; they already know to travel through Bladen’s borders and move in stealth. I believe a group of them are disguised as a troop of jongleurs coming to perform for the grand party,” Derek answered.

“You must have suspected we would have need of them some time ago to see them here so quickly, Derek. Why am I only learning of this now?” the king asked, regarding the Warlord.

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but I did have strong suspicions that were confirmed by several spies detained in the Gate and Market districts. When I received more than one report confirming the rumors, I sent for the mercenaries.

I apologize if I acted precipitously.” Derek bowed slightly.

The king slumped back in his seat, realizing that he had put Derek in charge for a reason, and he had not been in any condition to deal with the details of this situation while grieving. He should be grateful to Derek for taking care of it for him.

“You said you detained spies. How much did you learn from them? Where are they, in the city jail?”

“Ah, no, sadly the spies did not survive the interrogation process, and unfortunately they were not as forthcoming as we hoped. We have learned more from my friend here than from the agents of our enemy,.” Derek replied.

“Hmm, I would have liked to have spoken with the spies personally, Derek.

You overstepped your authority by executing them without my knowledge.” The king agued, but his words lacked any real heat.

Derek bowed again in answer; this time lower, aware that the king wasn’t really angry but he must show proper respect for the rebuke in front of others.

The king already allowed more informality than Derek had expected in front of the messenger, and Derek figured it was due to the king’s own distress.

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Things certainly were moving out of the realm of the king’s own experiences.

He’d played many a game of court intrigue but he’d never been challenged by a war. “Forgive me, Your Highness; I shall inform you immediately if we capture any more agents.”

The king waved a hand in acknowledgment, and continued the meeting.

“So, we face not one but two kingdoms eager to batter down our front gates and steal everything my people worked so hard for, including centuries of peace. You tell me that my own army is not up to the task of fighting this battle alone, and you hired mercenaries to assist. We have several war engines to add to our side. Is there anything else, any other plus on our side of the scales, or do we still stand unbalanced against our foe?” The king looked weary; lines of strain, grief, and worry etched his pale skin.

“The Valley of Ariva works in our favor, Your Highness. Recall that we maintain a very defensible position. We need only retain the Pass to win this war. If we hold out long enough, the costs of the venture will outweigh the benefits even for Prince Onian. Recall that his kingdom lies in extreme debt.

He cannot afford a drawn-out war, even with the aid of Barselor. That will also work in our favor. We need not withstand them forever. If we can block them at the Pass and keep them there, we can win against their superior skill and numbers.”

“Do we have enough men to hold the Pass once we boost our numbers with your mercenaries?”

“If we pull every fighting man out of the cities and send them to the Pass we should have enough men.”

“That means leaving my cities unguarded, vulnerable to attack,” the king protested.

“Your Highness, the only attack you need fear is from Onian’s armies. Thus far, no one has the ability to breech the mountains surrounding us, and there are no armies we need fear within our boundaries. I will leave the Citizen’s Force in the towns and cities to remain alert to any attempts at subversion, but the greatest danger lies at the Pass. I am sorry to say that if our armies fall there, then no amount of guards left in the cities will hold off Onian’s soldiers for long.”

“So the war comes down to one battle, one chance at success or failure? We either hold the Pass or lose our kingdom to murderous thieves?”

“Yes, Your Highness, that is the extent of the situation.” Both Derek and 144

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the messenger nodded in agreement. “Take heart, Your Highness; this will serve us better than having to move troops all around the kingdom. We are the ones who need only wait; Onian must deal with the logistics of mobilizing a mass army and supplying them over miles and miles of territory. We have advance notice and that gives us time to prepare. I used the brief respite when no other kingdoms knew of the ginacite to prepare for just this eventuality. We are not beaten, my liege, nor will we be as long as I yet draw breath.” A thought occurred to the king and he wondered why he hadn’t considered it before. “What of Bladen? We share a trade alliance with them cemented by the marriage of my own daughter to their youngest prince. Will they consider an alliance of war and add their number to our troops?” He looked hopefully at Derek. The Warlord shook his head sadly.

“We’ve yet to receive word from Bladen though we sent the missive to your own daughter and her husband when we discovered the ginacite. By now, Bladen will be well apprised of the situation and I fear that they have no intention of involving themselves. I fear they mean to stand back and wait—

and pick the carcass clean in the aftermath.” The king let his head drop back on his hands and heaved a sigh. “Well, there is little left for us to do then. We must prepare for war. Call in the herald.

We must send out the word.”

“Your Highness, about the grand party—” Derek prompted.

“How long until Halidor marches on my land?” the king addressed the messenger.

“I am not entirely certain, but the word I received during my brief stay in Halidor was that the troops planned to mobilize before the start of the next moon-cycle.”

“That gives us twenty-five cycles; the party happens in seven. We will continue with our plans for the grand party.”

“But, Your Highness …” Lord Derek interrupted.

“This may be the last chance our people have to celebrate, Lord Derek.

Would you take that away from them? Whether we win or lose, there will be a great cost to my people.” The king bowed his head, but not before Derek caught the glitter of tears in his eyes. Derek motioned to dismiss the messenger and bowed to the king.

“I will send the herald, Your Highness, and begin my preparations immediately.” Derek watched, as the king remained slumped with his head

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bowed. He wanted to add something else encouraging, but there wasn’t much left to say; he could only hope the measures he’d taken would make a difference in the end. He turned his back on the king’s misery and quietly exited the chambers, waving the royal herald in to confer with the king.

Derek’s old comrade-in-arms met him outside the chambers and motioned for the man to follow him. They headed for Derek’s office. Derek still had things he needed to discuss with the seasoned veteran. He only hoped the other mercenaries he sent for arrived as quickly as they promised; the fate of Ariva might very well rest be resting on their shoulders.

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CHAPTER 16

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A mere two sun cycles after the order to mobilize the troops, a creaking, battered carriage drawn by a pair of exhausted horses pulled up to the castle gates. Th

e carriage’s occupant was accompanied by

only a scruff y and shifty-eyed mercenary guard and an aging and foul-mouthed coachman. A veiled young woman poked her head from the carriage window in response to the gate guard’s request for identity. She lifted her veil to reveal none other than the princess Elona. Th

e guards hastily opened the gates and

allowed the carriage and outrider to proceed within.

Once within the courtyard the royal steward appeared and assisted the heavily pregnant princess from the rickety coach. An ancient pinch-faced matron emerged after the princess’s painful and awkward descent and demanded payment for her services as chaperone to the princess. Once servants secured the single trunk and the steward paid off the disreputable hired escorts and sent them on their way, the princess was conducted within the castle to her former chambers, which servants hastily aired and prepared. More servants scurried about laying out a meal.

The princess, travel-weary and sore from the rough ride and her advanced pregnancy, set herself down heavily, grateful that the ground beneath her no longer bucked and rocked, and she ate heartily. Soon, the efficient steward sent a lady’s maid to assist Elona in bathing and changing and her family received word that she had returned, alone and unexpected. The princess collapsed into a freshly changed bed to rest.

By sunbirth the following cycle, Elona awoke, refreshed and full of energy despite the demands of her bulging belly. Back home, surrounded by those 146

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things she’d claimed too childish to take with her upon her marriage, Elona looked around and for the first time in a very long time she felt like her old authoritative self. The chamber maid scurried busily about the room, setting the few meager belongings Elona brought with her into their proper places whilst the lady’s maid, hastily promoted from the chambers, shakily assisted the princess in dressing. Elona grew impatient with the girl and snatched the overdress out of her hands, pulled it over her head, and thrust her arms through the sleeveless garment. The maternity sack dress split over her massive belly and fell to either side. She swept up a filmy shawl and arranged it artfully about her slender shoulders, pulling her auburn braid out of the way, all while she snapped orders at both harried girls. Checking her appearance in the polished silver, she powdered her face, attempting to brighten the darkness beneath her eyes and disguise the lines of strain on her otherwise flawless skin. She barely finished restoring her appearance to its normally glowing and vibrant beauty when a peremptory knock announced the arrival of her family.

Sarai entered the room first and Elona clenched her fists at how exquisite her sister looked; she hated admitting that her sister appeared lovelier than herself. But, she reminded herself, she is so quiet and shy; she blends into the walls despite her beauty, unlike me. Everyone knew that Elona’s vibrancy, arrogance, and sense of command drew all eyes to her more often than not.

Elona rose, slowly, struggling to maintain a semblance of grace despite the awkward belly, and waved her sister in.

“Tell those fools to wait in the sitting room. I’ll not have them chattering and interrupting all the time,” she said, when Sarai’s entourage of ladies tried to follow her into Elona’s chamber. Sarai waved them out and stepped in to close the door and study her sister. Elona stood impatiently.

“Well—” she said, tapping her tiny foot in its worn silken slipper.

“You look beautiful, your pregnancy becomes you.” Sarai stepped closer and then enfolded her sister in a fierce hug. “I am so glad you came home.” Elona stood frozen, stunned by the show of affection. Many people in her life admired her beauty, and some even admired her strong and aggressive personality, but very few people in her life loved her or showed her true affection. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by a family’s love.

It had been a long time. Cautiously she raised her own arms to awkwardly encircle her sister. She pulled away a few seconds later and fussed with her gown, straightening the front and brushing at the fabric. It gave her time to 148

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blink away foolish, sentimental tears. She had no time for such nonsense, and her pregnancy seemed to increase her vulnerability to waterworks, something she so rarely indulged in before she found herself with child.

“You shouldn’t have made the trip though, Elona. It’s so dangerous, especially in your condition.” Sarai looked wistfully at Elona’s swollen tummy.

“Nonsense, my baby son is tougher than a little bit of bumpiness on the roadways. Besides, I received your message, and I knew I just had to come.” Her answer distracted Sarai for a moment. “How do you know you are having a son?”

“Because that’s what I asked for, of course.”

“Asked for? Who did you ask, your husband?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That oaf demanded a son; I wouldn’t even have to ask him for such a thing. You aren’t asking important questions, Sarai. You always did waste your time on frivolous pursuits. You should ask me why I had to come, what was so important that I came here despite my advanced pregnancy.”

“Why did you know you had to come?” another voice asked. The king crossed his thick arms over his chest, awaiting the answer to his question, certain that his eldest child planned some mischief and in no mood to countenance her and her troublesome nature at this time. The queen joined him; the remainder of Elona’s family having entered while Sarai greeted her sister. Sergen poked his head around his father, eager to catch a glimpse of the sister he barely knew but whose reputation alone terrified him.