The Wounded Guardian (35 page)

‘They’ll never find it, and if they do, they’ll never be able to open it,’ he said with satisfaction.

‘How come this is here, anyway?’ Conal wanted to know.

‘It was built back in the days of goblin attack. They were not known for taking prisoners,’ the servant shrugged. ‘Only the Count’s family, his most trusted servants and guards know of its existence and are sworn to secrecy. Let us hurry.’

Once again they started walking, but the dark atmosphere had nothing to do with the dim passage. Karia thought this was quite an interesting adventure but was a bit nervous of the man leading them down here. She was also unsure around Martil. The Martil who hacked apart men and returned to her covered in blood was a different Martil from the one she liked.

Martil was still smarting from Barrett’s accusation, while the wizard had several worries. He had no liking for Martil and normally the thought of his life being leached away by the Dragon Sword would not worry him. But without the Sword, Gello was going to win. Barrett was also concerned about Merren. She had not taken Sendric’s refusal well and was not saying much. He had seen her in a rage before, seen her rip into nobles around the council chamber, but this was different. She should have handled Sendric much better than she had. He might have been willing to help them in secret if she had tried to persuade him, rather than order him. He had tried to suggest that to her before. Many of the nobles were proud men, with long histories of service to the crown. They reacted badly when she tried to force them to do things they did not want to do. However, it was hard to say anything to her at the best of times. And he certainly did not know what to say now.

Merren walked along numbly. How could Count Sendric not help? It would have been so perfect. Sendric was the biggest town in the north but, more than that, it dominated the northeast. Thanks to a happy accident of geography, you could block off three passes and seal off this part of Norstalos from the rest, giving you the town of Sendric, two smaller
market towns and a score of villages—as well as almost every silver and gold mine in the country. If you were going to start a rebellion, this was the place. She knew she had to start thinking about another plan but she just did not have the energy now.

Conal could feel the tension, but it did not worry him. He had been in worse situations before. They walked on, although the passageway was wide enough for two horses to be ridden abreast.

‘Reinforcements could get in, as well as people get out if they needed to,’ Martil reflected, running his hand over the tunnel wall.

They walked on, each lost in their own thoughts, as the passage sloped downwards, taking them under the town. But walking in silence was not good enough for Karia, who soon wanted to know where they were going, why they were going there and what this place was.

Martil put her onto Tomon and found her a chunk of oatcake to eat, which left her quiet and him free to brood on what had gone wrong.

The breeze grew a little stronger, as the passageway started to rise.

‘You should be safe from here,’ Gratt said suddenly. ‘Just keep going and you will find yourself in a small wood a few miles from town. I must return. I am known as one of the Count’s principal servants, so if I am missed, things will be suspected.’

He handed the lantern to Conal and before they could do anything more than thank him for his help, he had run back the way he came.

‘Are we walking into a trap?’ Martil wondered.

‘If we are, they will be sorry,’ Barrett said grimly.

But while the passageway grew lighter, the breeze grew stronger and the slope grew steeper, there was no-one waiting for them as they emerged into a cave in the side of a small hill, which was itself well hidden, covered by a thick wood.

Barrett extinguished the small ball of flame at the head of his staff and then waved it to the trees. Almost at once, a pair of birds flew down to him and perched on his staff. After a few moments, they flew off again.

‘They’ll lead the way back to the lodge,’ he stated.

Merren still seemed dumbfounded by the way things had gone so wrong, so Barrett helped her onto Tomon and they started back.

‘Any more sympathetic nobles around here?’ Martil asked.

‘We shall have to see,’ Barrett shrugged. ‘We need a good meal first.’

It was a long walk back to the lodge, and even Karia’s chatter had died down by the time they reached it. As soon as they were inside, the Queen went into one of the bedrooms and shut the door.

‘We should leave her for a while. I think she was confident the Count would help us,’ Barrett said. ‘She has believed finding the Dragon Sword would be the end of her troubles.’

Martil opened his mouth to argue but was beaten by Karia.

‘I’m hungry,’ she announced.

‘We’ll get cooking,’ Martil agreed.

‘And then get thinking,’ Conal muttered.

It was an unpleasant atmosphere as they worked in the lodge.

Barrett kept Karia amused by showing her how he could make a spoon heat up, change its shape and
then form back into a normal spoon once more. Nobody else felt like laughing.

‘We are short of fresh supplies,’ the old bandit reported. ‘If we’re going to be staying here for a while, as looks likely, then we really need to get some more.’

‘We’ll have to go and get something from a village nearby,’ Barrett agreed. ‘Conal, you had better make the purchases; I’ll come with you to show you the way. We had better leave now if we are to be back by dark. Martil, will you be all right guarding the Queen?’

‘I think I might manage,’ Martil replied, getting himself and Karia bowls of stew.

Barrett looked at him for a moment, then shrugged. ‘I think tomorrow we will look carefully at our plan of action,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you could think of what some of our options could be? I am right in thinking you have faced some desperate situations in the Ralloran wars?’

‘Aye,’ Martil agreed, trying not to think too much about them.

Barrett waited a moment longer, but when it became apparent Martil would offer nothing more, he sighed. ‘Keep the door barred. I doubt anyone would stumble upon the lodge but you never know how the town’s garrison will react. We shall use a special knock,’ Barrett demonstrated a series of taps on the door, ‘to let you know it is us.’

Martil just stared at him. ‘Make sure you get some fresh fruit,’ was all he said.

Conal gave them a wave, and then he and Barrett were gone.

Martil felt himself relax as soon as the wizard left.

‘Where are they going?’ Karia asked.

‘Just to get some food. We’ll wait here, to look after the Queen,’ Martil replied.

‘I would have liked to go,’ Karia complained. ‘It’s boring here.’

Strangely, Martil felt calmer around Karia. ‘Too dangerous. And besides, you need to help look after the Queen,’ he said, almost automatically.

Karia looked towards the bedrooms. ‘Should we go and wake her up so I can look after her?’

‘No, let her sleep,’ Martil suggested hastily.

Just then, they heard Conal and Barrett ride off, and Merren must have heard that as well, because the bedroom door opened and she stepped out.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

‘Barrett and Conal have gone into the nearest village to get some fresh food,’ Martil explained.

The Queen relaxed. ‘I thought…I wondered where they were going…’

‘We would never leave you,’ Martil said quickly, understanding her concern.

Merren smiled weakly at him and then sat down at the table, her head in her hands. Gone were the power and the poise that Martil had seen since he had first met her, instead there sat a young woman who looked tired in both body and spirit.

He and Karia ate in silence for a minute, Martil wondering if he should offer Merren a bowl of the rather tasteless stew.

‘Why?’ Merren blurted suddenly.

‘What?’ both Martil and Karia said.

‘Why did the Count not help us? I do not understand it. It’s always so easy in the sagas! It makes me wonder if Gello and his cronies were right, and Aroaril does not want a woman on the throne of Norstalos.’

‘That cannot be true,’ Martil said instantly.

‘It’s just that, after going through so much over the past few years, of struggling and plotting, having to be twice as tough as any king would be, just to get half the respect, I never thought there would be problems once I had the Sword!’ She seemed to be almost talking to herself, but Martil felt as though her words were going straight to his heart. It was obvious the royal persona, which she used to keep everyone at a distance, was gone. This was the Merren she usually kept hidden.

‘And you know what the worst thing is? I never even said goodbye to my friends properly. I let them go into terrible danger without even giving them a hug. Why? Because I have spent so much time trying to be the sort of tough ruler the nobles want, I can’t be myself any more. And all the time, it didn’t matter. I could have done it my way and Gello still would have gone down this path.’ She rubbed her face tiredly. Karia slipped off her chair and crossed over to Merren. She did not really understand what Merren was saying but it was obvious the Queen was upset. So she gave her a hug.

Merren stroked Karia’s hair absently, then helped her onto her lap. ‘There are things I could have done better. If I get the chance again, it will be different. Although that chance looks rather small now. I have half a mind to just leave. Let the country fall apart, let Gello lead it on a path to war and destruction. Go and sit in Tetril, or even down in Rallora, as a normal person. I can do what I like, say what I like, and marry who I like. See what they think of that.’

Martil’s heart had lurched when she had mentioned marrying who she liked, but he recognised she was not truly serious about it, just
trying to let out some of the feelings welling up inside her. He felt close to her then. ‘You won’t do that,’ he said softly.

‘No, I won’t,’ she agreed. ‘Because that’s what they want. They want me to run away, so they can say Norstalos should never have had a Queen. Well, I shall show them. I’ll be the best ruler this country has ever seen!’

Martil listened to her words, his food forgotten. He was transported back through the years, to the day when the army recruiter had come to the village. All had listened to the man, who had talked of how, once the brutal Berellians had been beaten back, the country would enter a golden age. The words had proved as false as the Berellians’ promise to keep the peace. He thought he would never listen to such a speech again. He had heard too many honeyed lies from kings and nobles in his time. But from her it was different. She had nothing to gain from this, she was just speaking her mind. He felt this was a pivotal moment. With the right words now, he could persuade her to abandon her plan to retake the country. But he found he did not want to do that. There was something about her that spoke to him. He could not crush her dreams. Instead he wanted to give her hope, even though it would put him even closer to the fighting. He had started this journey on a whim, now he would take his first deliberate step in a campaign not just to win her war but more importantly, to win her.

‘Merren, it was not your fault. But all is not lost. We can still start the way I suggested. It will just take that much longer without Sendric’s help,’ he said firmly.

‘How?’

‘After the battle of Meads, the Ralloran army was smashed. Oh, we made it into the mountains, a few thousand of us, but we could not face the Berellians and Avish in open battle any more. All that was left was to wipe us out and then divide up the country. Luckily for us, they decided to divide our country before they finished us off, and fell out over where the new boundaries would be drawn. Still we did not have the strength to take on even just the Berellians, so we split up and started raiding. We stung them, until the Berellians were just guarding the land they held. Then we started taking back villages and small towns. That is what we shall do.’

‘You think we can do that and win?’ Merren asked doubtfully.

‘If Rallorans could do it, without a rallying point like the Sword, then surely we can,’ he smiled.

‘I wish I could believe that,’ she sighed.

Martil took a deep breath. He had sworn never to do this but the course he had chosen demanded it. For a moment he wondered if he would be doing this if he was not attracted to her. But that was pointless; he was attracted to her and he was doing this. He stood and walked around the table, then drew the Dragon Sword and dropped to one knee by her side. He took her hand, and felt his heart pound a little faster. It took some effort to concentrate on her face. Her eyes seemed to look deep into him and he tried not to let any of his feelings show.

‘I am pledging my life on it. I shall see you returned to the throne or I shall die,’ he said simply.
After all, that was what the wizard had insisted would happen, so it was not too much of a dramatic statement
, he told himself.

She smiled at him and he felt his heart jump again.

‘You don’t want to die!’ Karia exclaimed, and broke the spell.

‘I have always preferred victory to death,’ Merren chuckled. ‘Is there any stew left? I’m starved.’

Martil forced a laugh and busied himself getting her some stew, trying not to think about the promise he had just made.

‘One thing though—how long did the Ralloran wars last?’

‘Well, it was nearly seventeen years,’ he said.

Merren looked troubled. ‘That is my one concern. I do not like leaving Gello in power for so long. And, if you cannot unlock the Dragon Sword’s hidden powers, you will not have so long. You will die before then. You must be a good man.’

‘He’s nice,’ Karia defended him. ‘I don’t want to see him die. Who’s going to make me toast or play dolls with me then?’

Martil looked at Merren, who had an amused smile on her face. ‘You play dolls? The fabled Captain Martil, a Butcher of Bellic, plays dolls?’

He shrugged. ‘Sometimes. And catch. When I can’t avoid it, I sing bedtime songs.’

Merren looked at him quizzically. ‘I can see the Dragon Sword’s problem. Which is the real wielder—is it the man who looks after a small girl who is not his own, who can calmly deal with requests for more food and more books, or the man who becomes so lost in battle that he kills unarmed men?’