The Hordes of Chanakra (Knights of Aerioch) (21 page)

"Bertan?"

"Bertan the Valiant," Kreg corrected her. "He's got stars in his eyes, but he's already shown himself to be reliable.  He's also terribly anxious to please.  I also like the idea of getting him off the battlefield for a while, at least until he heals."

"Aye." Kaila nodded. "Reliable he is, else he would not be of the King's pages.  And I, too, could wish him further from combat than he is.  But methinks there is more to your thought."

"Yeah," Kreg said. "He reminds me of someone."

"Oh?"

"Me." Kreg smiled. "When I was a kid, before I grew up and got 'respectable'." Kreg paused for a moment. "I was such an idiot.”

#

"Remember," Kreg told Kaila as she was preparing to leave to join the eastern army, "timing is everything.  If the battle at Griselde had been in the morning rather than in the afternoon, the sun would have been in our archers' eyes rather than in the Schahi's.  I don't know that it would have turned the battle around, but it would have had an effect."

Kaila smiled. "You have said many times.  Timing is everything.  Location is everything.  Morale is everything.  Everything is everything." She swung up into her saddle. "We will do well.  'Tis a thing new you have taught.  Where you fight, and when, is as important as how."

"Just don't get yourself killed, okay?" Kreg patted her thigh just before she spurred her horse forward.  He stared after her as she disappeared into the distance.

"Come, Kreg." Shillond's voice brought Kreg back to the business at hand. "We must be off as well."

"I can't believe we're going to Merona!" Bertan practically glowed with excitement.

Bertan had arrived early the previous day, along with a wagon of others too wounded to remain with the army.  He still wore bandages from his encounter with the demon.  Shillond had examined his wounds and announced that he was well enough for their journey.  Despite the slow healing of demon-caused wounds, Bertan would be fully recovered by the time they reached Merona.

With Shillond's magic bolstering Bertan's healing, he would soon be well.  Already Bertan could ride unaided, which was fortunate.  They would be riding to the port city of Enosh, the same city from which Kreg, with Kaila and Shillond, had begun their abortive mission to Schah.  From Enosh a ship would carry them to the island kingdom of Merona.

Keven stood at the palace gate, awaiting them. "It likes me not," he said, "that ye travel abroad so.  There are enemies about in the land."

"We go at your order, Keven," Shillond reminded him.

"Aye." Keven nodded. "'Tis true and I know it well.  And yet, I would ask ye to take care. 'Twould please me not were you slain.  And, Kreg," he added, turning to him, "take care as well.  I find I grow to like and respect you."

"We'll be all right," Kreg assured him. "As Kaila would say, fear not for us.  Fear rather for the evil we face." He urged his horse forward.

They did not travel with the urgency of the previous trip.  Instead of riding at full gallop with frequent changes of mount, they alternated walking and trotting with short breaks.  This pace, covering about thirty miles a day, the horses could maintain almost indefinitely.

"We must see to Bertan's training," Shillond told Kreg when they had halted for the evening.

"Okay." Kreg nodded. "I'll finish up here, so you..."

"No, Kreg." Shillond shook his head. "You misunderstand.  Bertan is a page, learning the sword.  I am no swordsman.  You must see to it."

"Me?"

"You." Shillond tapped him on the breastbone. "There is no other.  And nobody trained by Kaila is entirely incompetent."

"But I'll need training swords," Kreg said. "If we use steel, one of us will get hurt!"

For answer, Shillond removed a long bundle from one of the packhorses. When he unwrapped it, it proved to contain two whalebone training swords, the very swords with which Kaila had taught Kreg how to fight.

Without a word, Kreg took the two swords.  He walked over to where Bertan was currying their mounts. "Bertan, leave that.  Shillond will take care of the horses." His eyes challenged Shillond to contradict him.  "You have your training to attend to."

Shillond held out a hand and took the currycomb and brush from Bertan.

"For your information," Kreg said as he tossed one of the swords to Bertan, "these are the very swords with which Kaila taught me."

Bertan caressed the blade lovingly.  Kreg grinned.  Bertan obviously had a big case of hero-worship for Kaila.  Kreg could understand that; Kaila was a woman worth worshiping.

"No," Kreg said as Bertan took a ready stance. "Hold your sword higher, like this.  I could easily get through your guard."

#

In a week they reached Enosh.  The local count held a message for them from Kaila.  She had met the Schahi army in a minor skirmish and was retreating before them, hoping to lead them to a battleground where she could defeat them.  She expected success inside of a week and they would soon be able to send a force to aid Merona.

"The encounter took place three days ago," Shillond said after relaying the message to Kreg. "We arrived almost on the messenger's heels."

"And Kaila?" Kreg asked. "How is she?"

"Well," Shillond's voice held a mixture of relief and concern. “She received a minor wound in her left arm where a sword point pierced her mail, but it was well doctored.  She says she can still fight."

Kreg snorted. "If there's a fight brewing anywhere for a just cause, I think Kaila would rise from her deathbed to fight it."

"True." Shillond nodded. "Let's just be glad she's not on her deathbed."

"So Kaila's a hero again," Bertan piped up.  He had been listening during the entire conversation. "And you're a hero too, Kreg.  And Shillond's high mage of Aerioch and a hero too.  I want to be a hero."

"There's much to be said for the quiet life." Kreg grinned. "Heroing is likely to get you killed."

"Aww."

"Cheer up, lad." Shillond tousled Bertan's hair. "Do your duty in all things and adventure enough will come your way.  As for being a hero; that's in the hands of the Gods."

#

The next morning they boarded a small galley.  A single bank of oars lined each side, each oar having two oarsmen.  A short mast carried a square-rigged sail, tightly furled against the yard.  With the exception of a closed cabin abaft, the ship was open-decked.

Shillond had selected the ship for its speed and agility.  It lacked the ability to ride out heavy seas and storms and ordinarily would have been a poor choice for this trip, but with Shillond along to ensure good sailing weather, it would be safe.  The ship's speed would also allow them evade any Schahi shipping they should meet.

As they crossed, Kreg told Bertan that the rocking of the ship was an added bonus to his training.  Not often did they have such a perfect opportunity for him to learn balance.

Two days saw them across the straits to Merona.  Another day took them up the Callor River to Lindel, the capital.

Lindel had less than half the size of Norveth.  It straddled the Callor River.  A wall surrounded Lindel with sea gates both where the river entered and where it exited.  A castle occupied an island at roughly the midpoint of the river's winding course through the city.  Boats ran along the river, which was deep enough for even the largest ships.

Kreg had never seen anything like the sea gates of Lindel.  Bridges crossed the river at these points, supported by stone arches.  Stone walls topped the bridges, their immense thickness spanning the entire width of the bridge.  These walls did not meet in the center of the river, ending instead about twenty feet apart, as did the bridges below them.

Wooden drawbridges lay across the top of the walls connecting them and allowing travel from one shore to the other along the top of the wall.  The battlements shielded spear throwing catapults and rock hurling ballistae, which threatened destruction on anyone so foolish as to attempt to take the city by ship.  At the same time, under the cover of this medieval artillery, Lindel's own ships could sally forth and disgorge armies to strike at any force that attempted to storm the city by land.

A brief exchange of shouts between the captain of the ship and someone at the top of the wall gave them entrance to the city.

The mast of the ship, as short as it was, was too tall to pass under the arches of the bridge.  They rowed through the gap between the walls and had plenty of clearance under the drawbridge.  At the docks they found an empty berth and tied up.

"What do we do now?" Kreg asked Shillond.

"We wait," he said. "We fly the Royal Banner of Aerioch, so a messenger should arrive soon."

Indeed, mere minutes passed before a party came into view between the dockside buildings.  Several mounted knights, a score of archers, and one boy on horseback bearing a banner comprised the group.

"Bertan!" Shillond called.

"Yes, Duke Shillond." Bertan ran to the prow of the ship and scrambled onto the dock.  He stood tall, despite his short stature, in a silk tunic blazoned with King Marek's coat of arms.

"Who seeks audience with His Most Exalted Majesty, Efrij, by the grace of the Triumvirate, by order, by election, and by conquest, Knight of the Sword, Earl of the Southern Hills, Lord of Lindel, Duke of Sheron, and King of all Merona?"

"We come in the name of his most noble and august majesty, Marek, surnamed Caelverrum, Lord of Norveth, Master of the Greenwood, Duke of Rinwel and Paramor, Lord protector of Trevanta, Knight of the Threefold Twins, King of Aerioch and Zantor, and Emperor of the Light." Bertan's voice rang clearly.

"King Efrij," Shillond whispered to Kreg, "is overly proud of his honors and lands.  Bertan reminded the herald that Marek is by far the greater."

Kreg nodded, then returned his attention to the continuing exchange.

"You say in whose name you come," King Efrij's herald said, "but not who you are."

"My companions are Sir Kreg," Bertan said, "Knight of the Twins and advisor to the King in matters martial, and His Grace, Shillond, Duke of Deilor, High Mage of Aerioch, and advisor to King Marek on matters magical."

Introductions dragged on for better than an hour.  Eventually the party on the docks decided that Kreg and Shillond did have business with the King and escorted them to the palace.  Here Bertan repeated the introductions, first at the gate to the palace, then again in King Efrij's audience hall.

"I asked for an army," Efrij rumbled when Bertan finished. "And I get two men and a single ship.  Does King Marek mean to insult me?"

"Your most exalted majesty," Bertan said, "stands before you two of the noblest heroes of all Aerioch.  Lord Kreg did, with his own hands, slay a mighty krayt that lay waste to the city of Norveth.  He is the hero of the battle of Griselde and 'twas his wisdom that visited destruction upon the forces of Schah wherein the King's armies did put the Schahi to the sword.  A score of the knights of Schah fell to Sir Kreg's own sword that day."

Kreg shuffled his feet self-consciously.  He did not remember that many.

"And Shillond?" Bertan was continuing. "Did he not tame the fire mountain?  Is he not the mightiest wizard in the sixteen kingdoms?"

#

"So they're coming from the north?" Kreg said sometime later.  Bertan had managed to convince Efrij that perhaps Kreg and Shillond could be of some help in facing the Schahi army. "That's odd.  Why would they circle the island that way unless...it's a diversion maybe?"

"It could be," Efrij admitted. "I will consult my royal seer.  He will watch all my shores and inform us of any approach." He strode from the room.

"Seer?" Kreg looked at Shillond and raised an eyebrow.

"You have adapted so well, Kreg," Shillond said, "that I forgot that you are not one of us.  To answer you, there are mages who specialize in particular types of magic.  The seer is a specialist in spells for gaining knowledge.  I doubt not but that he could find anything within the borders of Merona that is not magically concealed."

Kreg nodded. "We'll have reliable intelligence then. Good.  That helps."

Efrij burst back into the room. "We are undone!  A fleet of forty ships has landed at Callens and the army is in the north!"

Kreg looked at the King for a moment, then turned back to the map. "Callens.  That's...here." His finger tapped the symbol that marked the town. "Hill country on a peninsula.  Narrow neck." He scowled at the map for several long moments. "Majesty, do you have a map of this area?  I need to see what's there so I'll know what we have to work with by way of terrain and what not."

"To what purpose?" King Efrij swept the maps off the table. "We are undone, I tell you!  The army fights in the north and enemies invade from the south.  We cannot fight in both places."

Calmly, Kreg stooped to pick up the scattered maps. "I don't think we'll have to.  By dividing their forces, Schah has given us the chance to defeat them in detail."

"In detail?" Efrij broke off his tirade long enough to query the unfamiliar term.

"One at a time," Kreg said.

"Hah!" Efrij tossed his head. "This southern army will be at our gates long before we can hope for victory in the north."