Magician’s End (21 page)

‘Forgive me if I don’t say I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you.’

‘I understand, my dear Nakor.’ She stopped and looked around, ‘I think …’

‘What?’

‘I think my time is done.’ She looked at him with an expression that could only be called affection, laced with regret, and with eyes shining said, ‘Still, we had fun while we were together, didn’t we?’

A hot flash of memory that wasn’t his own, wasn’t real, struck the demon Belog who now thought of himself as Nakor. ‘Fun?’ he said grimly. He looked away, for the forgotten feelings were still close to overpowering if he allowed them to be. When he looked back she was gone, as were the colourful tents that had served as a backdrop. He was alone on a flat patch of grass.

Her question hung in the air.

Softly he said, ‘It was never fun. It was the most pain I’ve endured. You were the only woman I ever loved.’

He heard a suck of wind behind him and turned to discover another vortex hanging in the air. He pushed ancient feelings deep down inside, then took a step and jumped into the vortex.

•
CHAPTER TEN
•

Skirmish

H
AL DREW HIS SWORD.

Captain Reddic, leading the squad of thirty riders from Bas-Tyra, said, ‘Put up your sword, sir.’ He did not know Hal or Ty’s name or rank, but having been told by a palace officer they were men of rank, he had presumed courtesy and deference from the moment they left Bas-Tyra eleven days before. ‘This is a local patrol out of Silden.’

‘Remind me, Captain,’ said Ty, ‘to tell you the story of a bunch of Ceresian pirates we ran afoul of who were wearing Kingdom tabards – and last I heard, the Ceresians are now auxiliaries with Prince Oliver’s navy …’

‘It’s the boots,’ said Hal quietly enough for the company to hear. Ty gave Hal a dirty look for spoiling the story.

The men readied themselves as the captain held up his hand in greeting. The thirty or so men who approached wore the red tabards of Silden, decorated with a silver stag’s head. Their leader, a knight-lieutenant by his badge, held up his hand and ordered his men to halt. He rode forward and lifted his helm slightly in greeting. ‘Captain,’ he said in a friendly tone. ‘We don’t usually see the tabard of Bas-Tyra this far west. What brings you to our part of the kingdom?’

‘Orders from my lord duke,’ answered Reddic. ‘We bear dispatches for Salador.’

‘Odd,’ said the lieutenant. ‘But given the chaos on the water, I guess it’s not that odd to be sending dispatches by rider instead of ship. Can we be of help?’

‘Just how do things lie between here and Salador?’

‘We’re getting mixed reports,’ said the young lieutenant. ‘Here to where the road forks west to Malac’s Cross and south to Salador things are calm. My lord of Silden ensures that with our regular patrols, but south of there?’ He shrugged. ‘Every warship in our navy is in Rillanon, and we’ve heard of both Keshian and pirate ships sailing within sight of Salador. And we’ve had reports of banditry, though with this many swords, I suspect you’ll arrive unchallenged.’

‘One can hope,’ said Captain Reddic. ‘I fear no fight, but arriving in a timely fashion is important.’

The two officers saluted and the two columns rode past one another, the men of both commands nodding respectfully. Hal couldn’t help himself, but glanced twice to look at the Silden contingent’s boots, finding them as polished as he would expect from cavalry in the field.

The ride over the next four days was uneventful and as they entered Salador territory, they saw more and more signs of conflict. Villagers raced to lock themselves behind doors or fled into the field when they saw men with strange tabards approaching. The second time this occurred, Hal commented on it. ‘What’s got them so fearful?’

One of the men riding just ahead of Hal and Ty said, ‘From a distance, they see these black tabards, so they can’t tell if we’re friend or foe. Might as well be a bunch of horseback pirates for all they know.’

‘With the navy gone,’ said the man riding beside the first soldier, ‘it’s easy for a pirate sloop to ride in close, drop a dozen men over the side, and wait while they plunder. Farmers and fishermen, that’s what we’re seeing.’

The first soldier said, ‘Don’t sell ’em short. They’re tough as old boots when formed up in a militia – I’ve fought beside too many of them to think they lack spine.’

‘No argument, Jacques,’ said the second speaker. ‘But when only two or three of them are facing a dozen cut-throats, and they’ve got wives and daughters to think of, they’ll flee, or hole up and take ’em one at a time through the door.’

‘Rarely works, that,’ said Jacques.

‘What rarely works?’ asked Ty.

‘Holin’ up. The pirates just burn you out and take what they want. You fight them on the beach or you run. Anything else is a waste of time and blood. Leave some booty behind and the sea rats won’t bother to chase you into the hills.’

Hal said, ‘Before this trouble with Prince Oliver began, what was the coast like?’

The second soldier said, ‘Quiet as could be, sir. A man could ride unarmed from Bas-Tyra to Salador with his purse filled with gold, and unless he ran afoul of a particularly bold bandit, he was as safe as he was in his own bed.’

‘Safer,’ said Jacques. ‘Cities still have thieves, and that’s a fact.’

They travelled until nightfall, then made camp on a flat-topped hill a short distance from the road, surrounded on three sides by light woods. Ty helped gather firewood while Hal helped tend the horses. He admired the squad from Bas-Tyra; they were efficient and disciplined. They might be close to the King’s Highway and almost to their destination, but the nearby grounds were cleared and a brushwork barrier was erected. It wouldn’t stop a rider, but it would slow men on foot as well as make a great deal of noise if moved. Also, sentry torches were cut and placed along the perimeter. When the last torch was cut and put in place, Hal asked the soldier next to him, ‘Aren’t we close to the city?’

‘Less than a day’s ride, I reckon,’ answered the soldier.

‘Good. As much as I enjoy the company, a bath and bed would be welcome.’

‘Well, I’m not keen on baths; my papa said they’d wash away your strength, make you weak, so I avoid them until told by an officer, then I do it quick.’

Having been downwind of the man, Hal had no trouble believing the story.

The camp had become routine for Hal and Ty. For two weeks they had been riding with these men and while the two young nobles’ identities were still hidden, they had come to know the men they rode with well. Hal realized that in some way garrison soldiers were the same the world over. The Bas-Tyra accent might be foreign on his ear, and some of their words were foreign enough to make him wish he had studied the original Bas-Tyra dialect, but for the most part he understood and admired them. Like soldiers everywhere, they numbered their share of drunks, malingerers, malcontents, and fools, but he had little doubt these men had earned their duke’s loyalty as much as he had earned theirs.

He approached Captain Reddic after the evening meal. ‘If you have no objection, Captain, I’d like to be off before first light.’

‘In a hurry to get to Salador?’ Reddic asked with a neutral expression.

Keeping his voice down, Hal said, ‘You’ve been a fine officer on this mission, Captain – one I’d be proud to have in my command.’

‘Your command?’

Lowering his voice, Hal said, ‘I’m Henry conDoin, prince of the Kingdom and Duke of Crydee.’ He had been carrying his father’s ducal signet in his belt pouch. He would follow tradition and bury it with his father once his father’s body had been recovered from the roadside grave where Brendan had buried him. At the king’s pleasure he would don the new ducal signet given him by his liege lord – whoever that might turn out to be. Hal showed the captain the ring, then put it back in his pouch. ‘I’m riding with my companion to take council with Prince Edward on the Fields of Albalyn.’

Reddic reflexively started to come to attention, but Hal’s hand on his shoulder cut off the change in posture. ‘I’d just as soon appear at the gates of Salador as one of a pair of swords for hire than be escorted in by thirty of Bas-Tyra’s finest.’

‘Highness,’ whispered the captain. ‘Whatever you command.’

‘How about Ty and I take the last watch before dawn, then just steal a march on you? Make up whatever story suits you and we’ll be fine. If fate gives me the opportunity to commend you to my lord Bas-Tyra, I will.’

‘Your Highness is too kind.’

Hal smiled. ‘I know soldiers, and you handle these better than most.’

He walked back to where Ty was patiently waiting for what remained of the food to be heated up. There was only so much you could do with salted pork, dried vegetables and jerked beef. More experienced cavalry cooks carried small packets of spices, trying to give the lacklustre food some semblance of variety. Hal was of the opinion that just getting anything hot on the trail was a situation for which to be thankful, so anything more was a blessing.

‘We’re taking the last watch and getting out of here early.’

Ty nodded. ‘Anxious to get where we’re going?’

‘Absolutely. That popping around those magicians do … it would be something if we could do that at will.’

‘Maybe flying, while we’re at it,’ said Ty with a wry grin. ‘I’ve been told some of them manage that feat, as well.’

‘All right. I’m going to get some rest until they tell us food is ready. Tomorrow night, a good dinner and a hot bath.’

Ty laughed. ‘Don’t sound so expansive. You’re not buying; we’re going to be guests at the palace.’

Hal lowered his voice. ‘No, we’re not. I’m foregoing the usual courtesy of calling on the Duke of Salador – Jim shared some intelligence with me before we left, and I’m not certain I want to be in Duke Arthur’s tender care, even for a night. We’ll find a decent inn, and I am buying.’

Ty grinned. ‘I know just the place. Very good food; not as good as at the River House—’ the River House was the name of his father’s twin establishments in Roldem and Olasko, famous in the Sea of Kingdoms for the best food one could buy. ‘But very good. The beds are soft with clean sheets, and the women are … very friendly.’

‘Sounds like just the place,’ said Hal, lying down and putting his hands behind his head. His thoughts couldn’t help turning to Princess Stephané. No matter how many times he told himself that she was not only unobtainable, but that fate might decide he would never see her again, he still saw her face last before he fell asleep, and every morning she was the first thing he thought about. No woman he had ever met had filled him with such feelings: he felt profoundly empty without her.

He had been somewhat sheltered as a youth, his mother apparently having eyes and ears in every home containing a daughter of appropriate age. Being the eldest son of a duke had advantages almost everywhere in the Kingdom, but not in Crydee. It would have been funny to Hal had he not been the object of the joke. While other young men his age were often closing down ale-houses and inns on Sixthday night, he was usually alone in his room reading or sitting with his family after dinner.

Like most young men, he desired what he thought he was missing, and on those few occasions when he travelled with his father to Carse or Tulan, he did have an encounter with a serving girl or one of the town girls. He found the experience enjoyable and worth the time, but essentially empty.

It wasn’t until he met Stephané that he realized what was missing. Once when a friend had been rejected by a girl he had asked his father about it, and remembered the reply. ‘He’ll get over it,’ said his father. ‘But to speed it along, he needs to know that pain will come. The knack is to not engage the pain, not hold on to it like a treasured thing, but to simply let it pass through and wait until it’s gone. It will come less frequently and after a time, be gone.’

Most of the time since coming to Rillanon he had been too busy to dwell on loving a woman he could never have as his wife, but it was in these quiet moments when something reminded him of her that he got an ache in his chest he could not shed. He refused to let his mind drift into self-pity or pointless longing, but the emptiness lingered. He tried to follow his father’s advice and simply let thoughts of Stephané pass through him, but they didn’t. They lingered and tormented him.

He drifted off to a fitful doze, his mind floating through various thoughts and images. He missed his father, and wished he could talk to him about so many things, especially how best to serve his now smashed duchy and the Kingdom. And about Stephané …

He felt a hand on his shoulder. ‘Sir, it’s your post.’ Hal blinked and found one of the Bas-Tyra soldiers waking him. Blinking and feeling completely unrested, he said, ‘Thank you.’

Ty was already awake and moving toward the horse line. When Hal caught up with him Ty said, ‘Rough night?’

‘Yes. Couldn’t sleep.’

Ty said nothing. He had travelled enough with Hal to know that the young duke was an experienced enough soldier to grab sleep anywhere, so this was unusual.

‘Something up?’

Hal shook his head. ‘Just things getting to me, I expect. Once we reach Salador I’m neck-deep in these politics and that’s a place I’d rather not be.’

‘I don’t envy you,’ said Ty. He quickly inspected his tack and said, ‘I’ll take the west side.’

Hal nodded. He glanced skyward and took note of the position of the stars and the setting two moons, Small Moon and Middle Moon. Large Moon rose with the sun this time of year. ‘We have two hours, then let’s saddle up and get an early start.’

Ty nodded and moved off to the west side of the camp.

Sentry duty was as mind-numbing a chore as a soldier could endure, yet it was vital. A man coming awake is not as effective a soldier as one already on his feet, weapon in hand and alert. It was conventional wisdom among every author on the subject of war that Hal had read that attacking in the early morning hours was the most effective tactic in a surprise attack. Men were either still sleeping or just rising and did not have their wits about them. Those attacking had the advantage of resting before the assault, and Hal knew enough as a student of warcraft to know that sometimes a battle turned on one side or the other having only the slightest advantage.