The Cerberus Rebellion (A Griffins & Gunpowder Novel) (16 page)

“
Of course.” Tristen turned his horse and waved at the men in the towers. Torches were lit and the men took them to the tops of the towers to signal the waiting caravan of wagons that would carry the majority of the weapons to Hampton. “I count at least a dozen knights, and half as many lesser lords.”

“
And a baron on top of everything,” Raedan told his peer. The man’s eyes grew wide and he grinned. “Not one of the wealthier barons, but we should get a solid ransom from his family.”

“
Very good then,” Tristen said. “Shall we see what the keep has to offer?”

“
There will be no pillaging,” Raedan reminded. “We intend to use this fortress. Only the armories are to be touched.”

“
My lord, I thought that only applied to the soldiers. Surely we have the right to see what spoils we have taken in the keep?”

“
We lead by example, Tristen,” Raedan said. “We will not ransack the Baron Aldenburg’s personal belongings. Though with the sun so near to rising, I may employ his kitchens before we leave.”

“
As you say.” Tristen nodded and then turned his horse and trotted into the inner fortress. Raedan followed close behind.

He thought that the younger baron would not go against his word, but there was something about Burke that unsettled Raedan, and he didn’t want to leave the man unattended for too long in such close proximity to forbidden loot.

Inside the stone walls, the royal garrison had been assembled and were sitting in the middle of the bailey surrounded by guards. Talvin was directing soldiers as they finished gathering the last of the guards and started to move crates of weapons out of the armory cellars. If the reports were accurate they would find nearly ten thousand rifled muskets, no less than a dozen cannons and thousands of pounds of powder and shot.

“
Talvin.” Raedan waved his commander over to him. “Send a rider to Hampton. Tell them that we have taken the fortress and the armories with no loss of life. We will load the weapons as quickly as possible and make our way to the nearest rail station to transfer the weapons to the next train bound for the river.”

“
Yes, my lord.”

“
And I want guards posted in the keep at the entrance to every chamber. I don’t want any looting. Lord Burke seems disappointed by that decision.”

“
Of course, my lord. Nothing will be taken from the keep without your leave,” Talvin said before he jogged toward a group of still mounted soldiers.

The rush of adrenaline and excitement of the capture was already starting to fade and Raedan allowed himself a moment to look around the castle as the first glimpses of sunlight peaked over the horizon. He saw the telegraph wire that would lead to the lord’s chambers. His scouts had cut the wire almost a full day before and all of the lines crossing the Hart River had been severed as well.

He had thought that they would want to keep communications with the east open and that severing the lines before the river would have proved equally effective at cutting off the eastern deployments of Royal Soldiers while maintaining their own ability to communicate. The risk of leaving the lines intact had been deemed to be too great, however, and cutting them had been the first act of defiance.

The keep was otherwise rather plain. No ornate gargoyles looked out from the ramparts, no intricately carved statues ornamented the small gardens or entryways, and even the keep itself seemed rudimentary. Raedan wondered if it had always been that way or if the ornamentation had been removed when the keep was converted into a fortress and later an armory.

He turned a corner and found himself in the cannon yard. The cannons were assembled in five rows of three and covered by massive canopies. Cloth walls had been tacked onto the wooden frames; some of the canvas was starting to show its age.

The cannons, each of them a ten-pound field artillery gun, were clean and ready to travel. Their ammunition boxes were lined up against the stone wall under a similar canopy. Had they ever been fired for any reason other than testing?

These cannons were the most common type of field artillery available. Powder and shot were plentiful for the mid-sized weapon and they were portable enough that they could be hauled by a four-horse team. Although they packed less of a punch than the fifteen-pound guns that served as siege artillery, they were far more mobile.

He found the door exactly where Auberon had said it would be: plain oak, set in an unremarkable arch. Raedan dismounted and pressed his right hand to the door. He could feel the magics that held the door closed. Had he tried to force the door, he would have found himself unconscious.

The particular spell that had been bound to the archway was different from one magic-user to another, but there were only a handful of spells that could be used on something as plain as the door that stood between Raedan and the library beyond.

He touched the onyx at his throat with his left hand and began whispering the first spell. It was the most common of binding spells, and Raedan very much doubted that it would work. He was right. The magic in the door pulsed, but did not dissipate. Raedan found the spell on his fifth attempt. It was an obscure spell that Damon had only mentioned once in passing; Raedan had studied it more in his own time.

There was a small, dark room on the other side of the entrance. Raedan left the door open, so the faint glow from the moon would give him some light. Dust covered every surface in the small room. The bookshelves were largely empty, but one contained several thick tomes. Raedan pulled them off of the shelf.

He traced the inlaid title on one of the books and smiled. He returned to his horse, tucked the books into his saddle bags and climbed back into the saddle.

Raedan turned back toward the gatehouse. The wagons would be arriving soon.

Chapter 10 - Eadric

Eadric stifled a yawn with the back of his hand and tried to look like the attentive sovereign that he was supposed to be. But after a full afternoon of listening to petitioners beg his favor or request his help, boredom was getting the best of him. Seventy-nine had been on the list when Eadric opened his throne room to this band of beggars and peddlers.

The man that stood before him pretended to not see the stifled yawn and continued with his request without interruption. He was a representative of the Twelfth Legion of Tohr. The representative had learned of the plans to send armies across the Vast Sea and into conflict with Chesia and had come to plead the case of his brothers. The legion was one of the most infamous armies to crawl out of the ruins of the Rhonish Republic. Their actions left them to beg contracts from foreign governments rather than the Rhonish city-states.

Their offer was reasonable, if not fully developed. The representative had not planned for the food and supplies that it would take to maintain their army whilst fighting under Ansgar’s flag. Nor had his promise of loyalty in the face of greater bribes endeared him to Eadric.

“I have been authorized to offer to you a contract with half of the gold advanced and the rest to be paid on completion of contract,” the representative said. His accent was thick and he struggled to express himself in the common tongue of Ansgar.

“I thank you for your offer,” Eadric said. He remained slouched on his throne and didn’t even look at the representative. “But my forces are more than capable of handling this task without help from outside armies. Thank you.”

“Your Highness—”

“Your petition is denied,” Altavius Dohr rasped.

The mercenary’s eyes narrowed and he mumbled something before he turned to leave the hall.

“Next petitioner!”

A smallish man in thick brown robes, cinched with a white sash, shuffled forward, head bowed. He was bald, except for a thin black beard, and had ancient symbols tattooed into his scalp. He carried a small scroll in one hand and leaned on a thick black staff with the other. A brilliant ruby was clutched in a simple setting atop the staff.

“Your Majesty.” The man bowed and for the first time Eadric noted his slightly longer ears. “A word in private?”

“Who are you, and who sent you?” Eadric demanded. Altavius turned as best he could in his chair and glanced at his king: a stern look with urgency in his pale blue eyes.

“Perhaps a short recess is in order,” Altavius suggested.

Eadric nodded and stood. The gathered petitioners bowed low as Eadric retreated through the King’s Door led by Kendall Shield and followed by Altavius, the Tyroan priest and another two Shields.

The small room that served as Eadric’s private respite was lit by half a dozen candles. The tables were, for once, clear and the books organized on their shelves. Eadric took the largest seat in the room, a black leather armchair with golden studs. Altavius and the priest sat across from him in smaller chairs. Kendall closed the door and stood in the archway.

“Out with it,” Eadric ordered.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The priest nodded and slid the letter to Altavius. “A message from your son Takon.”

One of Eadric’s eyebrows rose involuntarily and he cocked his head to one side. It was rare for Altavius to communicate with any of his many sons.

Altavius took the letter and examined the seal: black wax without sigil or highlight. Eadric watched him carefully as he turned the scroll over in his hands and finally slid his thumb under the wax. The letter unrolled and he flattened it on the table with one hand. His other hand reached into his green robes.

“What is that?” Eadric asked.

“A letter from one of my many ears in this nation,” Altavius answered.

Eadric’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t press the point. Altavius sprinkled a black powder over the letter and whispered in elven. The powder sparkled and words appeared across the face of the scroll. Altavius studied the words carefully. His eyes scanned back and forth several times across the scroll.

“Dire news, Your Highness,” Altavius said at last. “Your western nobles have come together to plot rebellion.”

“What?” Eadric bolted upright. His knuckles went white as he clutched the chair’s arms.

It was impossible. The western nobles had been a part of Ansgar since its founding. They owed their lands and titles to his ancestors and their prosperity to him.

“How does this source know?” he finally asked. “What does he know of the details?”

“
How
is a topic I would prefer to avoid,” Altavius said. Eadric gave his advisor a sharp look, but the elf ignored him. “The western dukes have mustered their full levies and have gathered them in the Tirrell Barony. The levies that you ordered the other nobles to call together are also gathered there and more soldiers are being called to arms.”

“How many?” Eadric glanced over his shoulder at the book shelves and reached for a map. He unrolled it and placed ivory weights on the corners. “And what are their dispositions?”

“Three hundred thousand soldiers, at last estimate. And more being called up by the day. He does not know their dispositions. But he does know that all methods of communication to the West have been cut off at the Hart River.”

“I will not stand for this,” Eadric growled. He fondled the smooth stone in his pocket and stared at a map for a moment, then stood. “I will ruin those ungrateful bastards.”

“Your Highness, I think a more subtle plan—”

“A more subtle plan is unacceptable.” Eadric pushed past Kendall and through the door.

The petitioners had fallen into conversation while they waited for the King’s return. Their attention was brought back to the throne when Eadric slammed the door open and grabbed his scepter off of his throne.

“It has come to my attention that my nobles in the West have plotted rebellion against me. They have taken up arms and gathered without order or cause.” He paced slowly in front of the throne. “This breach of the law will not go unpunished. A letter will be drafted to every noble in Ansgar, demanding that they answer immediately as to their loyalty. Any noble or lord who does not swear his loyalty to me and lay down their arms will be stripped of their lands and imprisoned.”

At first the crowd was stunned into silence; then came uproar. The gathered lords and nobles bickered amongst themselves over the significance of the uprising. Merchants fretted about how trade would be disturbed if the western nobles refused to lay down their arms.

Eadric saw Earl Mallory of Forest Glen walking toward the thick doors, his Kerberosi brethren in tow. His eyes locked with the earl’s and the eastern noble froze.

“Seize them!” Eadric shouted. “And find the representatives of the western nobles. I want them to answer for this treason!”’

Guards circled around the Kerberosi nobles, muskets at the ready, bayonets fixed. The nobles and representatives raised their hands in surrender and were led out of the throne room. Other Shields marched from the hall to find the representatives of the western nobles.

“This audience is at an end!” Eadric proclaimed and swept back through the doors.

***

"They’re gone,” Kendall said. He stood inside the door to Eadric’s tower study, hands clasped behind his back, spine ramrod straight, eyes straight forward.

“They’re gone?”

“Yes, my lord. They left earlier this week aboard a Lainish ship chartered for White Ridge.”