The Wounded Guardian (46 page)

There was a touch of chill in the mornings now, a hint of mist hanging under the trees, to tell them that time was passing and summer was leaving. But the days were still warm and fine and time was still on their side. This meant Tarik and his men were sent out with Barrett to slow the searchers down, while Martil trained the farm boys. They were strong, and used to work, but a sword was not a hoe or a plough. After spending a day of frustration trying to
get them just to grip the sword properly, Martil gave up. Instead he handed them axes, and trained them with those. It was a strange experience. He had spent years learning how to fight against axemen, now he had to show men how to become axemen. But they took to this with far more enthusiasm—all had used axes to chop timber on the farm and the tool had a familiarity the sword could never hope to have.

The farm boys were already strong, but days of training with the axe left them barely able to raise food to their mouths. Martil realised it took months, not days, to turn boys into soldiers but he hoped they might cause Havrick’s men some problems. He knew swordsmen were often unprepared to come up against an axeman. The axeman was always going to get one swing at you. If you blocked or dodged his first blow, you were inside his reach and he was defenceless. But being prepared to gamble everything on your skill and speed—it was a difficult thing to learn. Martil had done it often enough that it was now second nature, but he rather hoped Havrick’s men would be more reluctant to risk themselves.

The little army now had plenty of supplies, arms and armour, and while she agreed to keep them safe for the time being, Merren wanted Martil to start recruiting more men.

‘Did you try the Dragon Sword on the men you captured?’ she asked.

‘Of course. But I had just used it to kill many of their friends, so they were reluctant to join. I think a few might have done, except one of them made a speech about anyone who joined us was a traitor who would die,’ Martil explained.

Merren let that go, and allowed him to go back to the training, but it worried her. Talking with the
women, and promising them a better country, had focused her mind once more on what must be happening in Norstalos City. Gello would be making himself impregnable, while this small rebellion was going nowhere fast. The Dragon Sword should offer a way out of the woods but it was not happening for Martil. No matter how many times they looked at the hilt, the dragon carving was not doing anything. Until it came to life, her quest to take back her throne was also lifeless. She felt she needed some advice. This was a magician’s territory, so she summoned Barrett.

‘What can we do about Martil?’ she asked him bluntly. ‘We need the Dragon Sword to be working its magic, bringing in good men from all over the country—but plainly it is not happening.’

Barrett nodded sadly.

‘It seems he is unable to rid himself of his past. And forcing him to fight time and again cannot be helping. I fear he may never be able to unlock its hidden magic. Which means it will kill him within a year. I think we need to plan for a swifter campaign. Ambushes in the forest are all very well but we need to let the whole country know about the Dragon Sword. We have to get the bards spreading word of the rebellion. Perhaps then good men will come forward, even without being persuaded by the Dragon Sword’s magic. After all, it holds a special place in the heart of every Norstaline. Also, if we can get away from a situation where Martil has to do most of the fighting, things may improve. Being used to slaughter hapless soldiers is hardly the sort of thing that impresses the Dragon Sword.’

‘Slaughter?’ Merren asked sharply.

Barrett shrugged. ‘He is brutal in battle. Even without the Dragon Sword he would be a demon. With it, fighting ordinary men is almost like murder.’

Merren digested this for a long while. ‘So we have to either stop him fighting, and try to make him show whatever it was that first attracted the Dragon Sword to him, or plan on using him for a year to advance our cause as far as possible.’

Barrett nodded. ‘Yes, your majesty. Perhaps if he spent more time with Karia? She seems to bring out the best in him. If we did that for a week, and then monitored what the Sword was doing, we could see if there really was a change.’

Merren sighed. ‘You have given me much to think on. Now I’d better talk to him.’

She stood and paced while she waited for Martil to come in from the training field. How to approach this subject? Apart from the fact he was a peerless warrior and experienced general, she felt there was a good man inside. The way he had spoken to the families of the dead men—it was obvious he cared deeply. Then there was his attraction to her. It was something she was trying not to think about, because it would just lead to trouble. But perhaps a little encouragement might help him…she was pondering this approach and just how far she was prepared to go to regain her throne when Martil arrived, sweating lightly, from the training field.

‘Sit down,’ she invited. ‘I am concerned. The Dragon Sword should be working for you by now. At least some of those troopers should have agreed to join us. But nothing appears to be happening.’

Martil instinctively glanced down at the hilt of the Sword, then looked up guiltily. ‘I told you, I made the mistake of not talking to them individually,’ he began hotly but Merren held up her hand.

‘I am not saying this to criticise you. I told you, I am concerned. If the Dragon Sword does not
respond to you, then you will die within a year of first drawing the Sword. If that happens our hope dies as well.’

‘You’ll still have the others,’ Martil objected weakly. Although he did not like the idea of dying, he did not mind hearing that Merren thought him so important.

She waved away his objection. ‘You are the commander of the army. The men would follow you anywhere. You have the knowledge to match and beat Gello. And you are the Dragon Sword wielder. Without one by my side, many of the people will never accept a queen. Your loss would set us back for years, if not forever. Which is why we need you to be the true Dragon Sword wielder, both for my cause and for your life. Now, it is just the two of us here, so I ask you, what can I do for you?’

Into Martil’s mind, unbidden, came an image of Lahra writhing beneath him, only this time it was really Merren. He tried to force the image away and concentrate on her question.

‘We’re fighting a war, against an opponent who still outnumbers us massively. There is not much that I can do to avoid fighting and killing,’ he shrugged.

‘What if you cannot unlock the Dragon Sword’s latent magic? Can we win within a year?’

Martil laughed. ‘Impossible. It took many years to win the Ralloran Wars. We need time to build up our forces and reduce theirs, to the point where we can make our move.’

Merren leant forwards. ‘Then the Dragon Sword must see that you are changing, so it, too, can change. Can you stay behind, rather than go out to fight?’

Martil laughed bitterly. ‘Only if you want those
men out there killed. Besides, nobody fights for a war captain who won’t risk his own life.’

She sighed. ‘Then can you promise me you will try to avoid killing too many more men?’

Martil, embarrassed and defensive, agreed, just to get out of there. It was frustrating. That cursed Sword just sat there, the dragon on its hilt doing nothing, judging him.

Not for the first time he found himself thinking death would be the only solution to this. But then he thought of Karia, and Merren.

‘I’ve still got most of a year left,’ he told himself.

It all changed again the next day, when Sendric and Conal returned from the town. The first Martil knew about it was when Barrett came running down to the training field to get him.

‘Keep going until I am back!’ Martil told them, then waved Rocus, Wime and Sirron over and followed the wizard up to the Queen’s audience cave.

They had barely sat down before the excited but plainly exhausted Count started speaking.

‘Your majesty, Sendric is ready to rise for you,’ he announced.

Stunned silence greeted his words, and Martil felt his stomach drop.

‘We have already spoken of how the town was incensed by the way Havrick’s men stole everything they could, raped and beat and killed the townsfolk before leaving. Then came the farmers, telling similar tales. Finally, to top it all, Havrick sent a company of cavalry into the town last night to take all the food they could find. Once again they killed those who tried to stop them. The town has had enough. The only guard is the company of pikemen and, fearing the
anger of the people, they have stopped patrolling and spend their time in the keep. Even better, three squads left with the cavalry, to help search the forest. With our trained men in the town, hundreds will join us.’

‘And how many of those will know how to use a weapon?’ Martil said harshly.

Conal was the first to answer. ‘Numbers don’t matter. If we came up into the stables inside the keep, it would be easy.’

‘Easy?’ Merren reacted even before Martil.

‘We made contact with Gratt, one of my most trusted servants,’ Sendric said. ‘He has been inside the castle and reports that the pikemen put their trust in walls, thinking the townsfolk will never attack. They leave their long weapons out in the open, piled together where they would be close to hand. But they only have a few men on guard. If we got inside the walls, we could kill the sentries and secure their weapons while they slept. Men cannot fight unarmed.’

Merren turned to Barrett. This was just the move she had hoped for. ‘Could we do that?’

The wizard smiled. ‘Of course. With just a little luck, we could see the town back in our hands.’

The buzz of excitement that swept around the table was cut short by Martil. Angry that Merren had turned to Barrett instead of him for the first reaction, he decided to quash this foolishness.

‘And what happens after we have taken the town, eh? Havrick finds out and marches his men back to besiege us. If we hold him off, he just whistles up reinforcements. We might be able to hold the keep with five hundred men but Havrick would make a mess of the town while we did so. And even if those men could hold him off, how would they do when Gello arrives at the head of five thousand men? Our
greatest advantage is the fact Havrick and Gello do not know where we are. By doing this, we throw away our biggest weapon.’

He leant back and poured himself a cup of water, as his words sank in around the table.

Merren was the first to answer him.

‘Nevertheless, we cannot win back a nation by fighting in the woods. We must confront Gello.’

Martil nearly choked on his water. ‘Your majesty, I have won back a nation! It took nearly ten years! Despite what the sagas say, you cannot just conjure an army out of thin air!’

‘We do not have years. The Dragon Sword is not responding to you yet. We cannot wait here, expecting it to do so. We must try and win this in one year, while we hope you discover within yourself the power to unlock its magic. Or we must be so far advanced that we are almost ready to take on Gello even without you.’

Martil could barely believe his ears. Barrett must be behind this. Use Martil while they could, so that when he died, the Queen would nearly be ready to take on Gello anyway.

As Martil sat there in stunned silence, Barrett thought he should move the discussion along. ‘So if we are to defend the town against Havrick, what would be the best way to do it? Martil, you know all about attacking and defending towns, what do you think?’

It was too much for him, coming from the man who obviously wanted to take his place.

‘Are you trying to be funny, wizard?’ Martil spat.

‘It was a reasonable question,’ Barrett said defensively.

‘Really? You yourself told me I was known as a Butcher of Bellic. Were you saying I know the best
way to storm a town and kill women and children? That it gives me a far better idea of how to defend against them?’

‘That wasn’t what I meant and you know it,’ Barrett snarled.

‘Stop this, both of you!’ Merren’s voice cracked like a whip across the table. ‘Martil, you go too far. Barrett is concerned about you, as are we all. Without your skills, we would not be here now. We need to take this town, because then we can parade the Sword and hoist my flag. Once we have done that, people will flock to us. The Sword means too much to them. And when we have enough men, perhaps you can avoid actually fighting. You are taking the lead in every fight—we need to stop you killing people.’

Martil had to stifle a bark of ironic laughter.

‘That could be a little difficult, given we are at war, and where the other side has all the advantages. The Dragon Sword has swung some of the battles for us. We would have lost more men if our opponents had not been terrified of facing me,’ he managed to say.

‘That is what I am talking about,’ Merren said. ‘We cannot fight the Ralloran Wars again. Nobody can afford that. We need to change our strategy. This will do it.’

Martil felt numb, almost empty inside. Was this his fate, to die in another useless war? Then, like a flame catching in an old fire, anger flickered into life. There had always been something within him that refused to lie down and give up. It was what had kept him alive this long. If he was going to die, then it was going to be at the time and place of his choosing. If he had less than a year, then he would set about winning this war within the year. And if he
died doing it, that was better than waiting in a cave for some bastard of a magic Sword to do it for him.

‘Fine. I’ll start planning and we’ll meet again tomorrow,’ he growled.

There was a ripple of relieved sighs around the table.

‘That is welcome news,’ Merren said warmly.

Everyone wanted to know what had happened to Sendric and Conal, and about the town and who they might have on their side, but Martil just wanted to get out of there. He used Karia as his excuse, and put her to bed even though she was not tired. What that meant was he had to read several lengthy sagas to her and then sing everything he could think of before she actually fell asleep.