Valour and Victory (25 page)

As the growing
army arrived at each mine, a group of ex-slaves would accompany
Elliot inside where Elliot would say his piece. He had also sent
out parties to visit those mines to the west, outwith their route.
At irregular intervals more recruits arrived from them.

There was a
tributary of the River Murdoch that meandered through the Duchy of
Smith and into Sahara and this was the route they followed.
Sometimes groups of slaves (and some of their overseers) were
waiting for them along the banks but more often the groups just
appeared as if out of nowhere to join the irregular mass of
people.

Not all of them
came from the royal mines and Elliot chose not to enquire as to how
they had acquired their freedom. Virtually no overseers were with
these often half-starved and ragged groups. They had come. That was
all that mattered.

By the time
they reached the western border of the Duchy of Smith, Elliot’s
‘army’ numbered almost thirty thousand men, women and children, all
eager to fight for their freedom.

As they surged
into the land beholden to the errant Duke of Smith, others began to
join them, not merely ex-slaves but vassals (and their levies) of
the said Duke, anxious to prove their loyalty to Elliot, to the
Crown and to the united Kingdom of Murdoch.

Elliot chose
not to delve too deeply into these changes of heart either, nor did
he enquire as to how the late Duke of Smith had met his end.

From these
Barons, Kellens and Thanes Elliot and Robain learned that the
kohorts had advanced into South Baker and had reached Fort and the
Citadel, which was now under siege.

“They’ll not
manage to overrun the Citadel,” declared Elliot to Robain during
one of their frequent stops to rest. “The walls are too high and
thick but that’s the only good news I’m afraid. The Larg will
realise that they can’t get in soon enough. My worry is that
they’ll bypass Fort and start fanning out through the countryside.
Except for the castles and tower houses, very few buildings could
withstand a determined Larg attack. The towns and villages
especially are at risk. I’m not sure what to do.”

“Relieve the
Citadel,” said Robain. “The children, the old and the sick can take
shelter there once we’ve retaken it. Then we must assess the
situation and decide what our next action should be and you never
know, the kohorts might still be there. The Larg don’t like to
admit defeat.”

“You think they
won’t be able to resist staying, hoping that the Citadel will run
out of food and water?”

“Absolutely. We
know the Largan is there. He’ll want to take the seat of government
and he knows that the Dglai will come to his aid at some point,
with their Quorko. From what we heard at Vada, these Quorko are
capable of bringing down even the strongest walls. We can’t do much
about
them
but we can do something about the Larg. They are
not used to combat within built up areas and I am sure we can
retake the town if we are determined and resolute.”

“With half of
our army made up of women and children armed with picks, shovels
and wooden clubs?”

“We also have
the levies of the vassals who are coming in,” Robain reminded him,
“and I think that those picks and shovels you so deride will be
just as effective against the Larg in streets and alleys as are
swords and lances. The slaves are fighting for their freedom. It
will make them
very
determined. Also, remember your history
lessons.”

“What history
lessons?”

“Have you
forgotten the great slave revolt of AL 358? Even I know about that.
They nearly destroyed your Kingdom. What were they armed with? I’ll
tell you … picks and shovels.”

Elliot
assimilated Robain’s prognosis, short history lesson and
advice.

“That’s what
we’ll do then” he said.

* * * * *

The
Crown-Princess

“Princess.”

Dowager
Crown-Princess Susan turned.

“Archbishop,”
she greeted Tom Brentwood. She had just returned from her tour of
the crowded palace complex where she had spent over two
candle-marks visiting the people who were sheltering. “What’s got
you looking so excited?”

“The lookouts
on the high tower are reporting that there’s an army approaching
from the west.”

“The
Regiments?”

“Not the
Regiments.”

Elliot’s
mother’s heart sank.
Another Larg army
, she thought in
despair.

“It’s not the
Larg,” said the Archbishop, elation bubbling from within. “It’s
people, a huge amount of people, they reckon there might be as many
as forty thousand! They’re marching under the banner of
Sahara.”

“We have no
army in Sahara,” protested Susan.

Tom Brentwood
shrugged. “I don’t know who they are or where they’ve come from but
they’re on their way.”

“Do they know
the Larg occupy the town below?” She was pushing past him,
intending to climb the stairs to the lookout post to see for
herself.

Tom Brentwood
let her go, the stairs were steep and he was not a young man. He
sat down on a nearby bench to catch his breath.

Now
, he
thought,
where did I put my arms and armour? I have a feeling I
might have need of them.

* * * * *

The Larg knew
Elliot was coming. They were waiting for him inside the town, the
Largan having refused to listen to his warriors’ entreaties to meet
the army in the open outside the gates where the Larg have the
advantage.

* * * * *

The
Guildmaster

“I am
going
and that’s the last I want to hear about it!”

“But it will be
dangerous,” protested Jhonas, who had been most distressed to learn
that the elderly Master Annert intended to be one of the volunteers
going with the Lai to the southern continent to drop the
bombas.

Jhonas was
going, as was Jeannie.

Guildmaster
Annert had insisted that only those without a family to support
should be numbered amongst the volunteers and also that they be
over twenty years old. He had a gut feeling that for most it would
be a one way trip. With so many young people gone to the war
already however, it had been difficult for him to recruit enough to
make up the numbers from the Technicians Guild.

As well as this
most of the inhabitants of Stewarton still didn’t know the true
nature of the war nor about the Dglai. The official Council line
was that the Garda and the Militia were stationed along the
coastlines, that their families were not to worry and that they
would be home, safe and sound, once the crisis on the southern
continent was over.

The news would
percolate to Stewarton eventually and when it did Annert most
definitely would not want to be in Head Councillor Ander’s shoes,
feeding false information to the populace as he was.

He’ll have
to resign
, thought Annert with satisfaction. He did not like
Horatio Anders, thinking him insincere and he suspected,
corrupt.

The volunteers
who would fly with the Lai all came from the Technicians Guild
apart from two, Jeannie and a friend of hers who was also studying
under the crusty mathematician, Professor Angus although Anders had
had to accept some of the older apprentices.

“I’m going,” he
repeated. “I am perfectly fit and quite able to light two bombas
and drop them on to the Quorkos. The journey is not beyond my
capabilities Jhonas. It is not me who will be doing the flying!
I’ll just sit on top and enjoy the experience. Imagine it! Flying!
What a wonderful thing! I
won’t
be denied the chance.”

“Prenda can go.
She is willing.”

“Prenda will
most definitely not. She’s only sixteen. She’s got her whole life
ahead of her and I think that you have forgotten that they are
my
bombas. I designed them. I’m going to be one of the
people who is going to drop them and no one, not even you, is going
to stop me.”

Jhonas shook
his head. “Very well Master,” he said at last, reluctantly
accepting the old man’s right to be part of the expedition.

“Are the carts
loaded?” asked Annert.

“They are,”
Jhonas confirmed. “The bombas are in place, five to a cart and
nestled into as much straw as we could find.”

“Fire starters?
Slow matches?”

“Them too,
enough to go round and one over per person. Couldn’t find any
horses to pull them. They’ve all gone with the army so it’ll have
to be jezdic.”

“The
teamsters?”

“Ready and
waiting. They’ve no idea what this is all about by the way, only
that they’ve to take us up to the reservoir and that they’ll be
away overnight.”

“They’ll get a
surprise when the Lai fly in,” chortled Annert, eager to be
off.

He and Jhonas
were dressed from top to toe in leather with stout wool underneath.
It was going to be cold up in the clouds and Annert had ordered
that all volunteers have adequate clothing. Woollen scarves,
mittens, gloves, hats and socks completed the outfits.

“Where’s my
pack?” asked Annert.

“There on the
table Master, just where you put it after Miggi gave you the
sandwiches she prepared. I had to talk rather fast to explain away
the reason why you needed so much for only one night.”

Guildmaster
Annert wasn’t listening. One big thrill of excitement, he picked up
his pack and followed Jhonas out of the room.

* * * * *

Julia

Susyc Julia did
not sleep well the nights before the battle. Alyei slept restlessly
too and this restlessness communicated to his human partner.

They were not
the only ones who tossed and turned or whose paws twitched or whose
thoughts were about the days ahead.

The horses were
edgy. They sensed the tension in the air. The felt the feeling of
impending doom.

* * * * *

The Guildmaster
and the Lai

“Right,” said
Jhonas as he and Master Annert entered the common room where the
volunteers were waiting, “time to go.”

The volunteers
stood up, each with a sturdy leather backpack filled with
essentials and enough food for five days. Everyone wore a belt
pouch strapped round their middles containing tinderbox, slow
matches, fire starter and a knife. These impedimenta they would use
to light the fuses on the bombas.

“Are you sure
the hay nets are in the wagons?” asked a concerned Annert.

The guild
apprentices had spent the previous afternoon scrounging the nets
from the various and largely empty stables in Stewarton under the
eyes of the mystified stable hands and owners.

“One for each
bomba and some to spare,” promised Jhonas.

“I hope they
will work,” fretted Annert, “but I can’t think of any other way the
Lai will be able to carry them. I wish there had been time to make
something sturdier.”

The nets had
been Professor Angus’s idea, the crusty old academic demonstrating
that he had a hitherto unknown practical streak in his make up when
they had all been wondering what to do. The idea was that the
volunteers would light the fuse and cut the rope tying the hay net
to the harnesses.

“May I say a
few words?” asked Professor Angus from the corner.

“Of course,”
said Guildmaster Annert but it was clear to all but the professor
that he wanted to be off.

Jeannie raised
her eyes to the ceiling, she knew the old man of old and his
farewell was likely to be on the long side.

* * * * *

Annert rode in
the lead wagon. The driver was a young man, little more than a boy
who chattered during the journey up the hill to the reservoir.

He controlled
the reluctant jezdic with ease. The cavalcade of wagons was making
good time so Annert was ready to forgive him the chatter although
he would much rather have journeyed in silence.

He learned that
the boy’s grandfather was driving the wagon to their rear and that
his mother, sister and cousins were in charge of the others.

The delivery
house from where Jhonas had hired the wagons was a family concern.
The boy’s father, his two uncles and his adult male cousins had
gone east with one of the Stewarton Militia battalions. He and his
grandfather were running the business while they were away.

“Grandfer
wasn’t keen to come tonight,” the boy confided. “He likes to settle
down of an evenin’ with a pint of ale but I said you was payin’
good coin and I insisted we take the job.”

“Very wise,”
said Annert.

“Thought so
meself. It’s not we need the coin you understand Guildmaster. This
last two months we’ve been very busy. Not so many draft and
delivery teams stayed, most are takin’ supplies for the army but
father said we should stay. Said we’d reap the benefits, city still
needs feedin’ right enough, produce brought in.”

“Your father is
undoubtedly right, a wise man.”

“Oh he is sir,
he is.”

The boy snuck a
look at Annert.

“So why we
goin’ to the reservoir sir? Seems an odd journey to be makin’ this
time o’ night. I means sir, there ain’t nothing there but
water.”

“You’ll see
soon enough son,” Annert absently replied, jiggling up and down on
his seat. “It’s something you’ll be able to tell your grandchildren
about one day. A great event is about to unfold, a very great
event.”

“If you say so
sir,” said the boy, privately thinking the Guildmaster more than a
little mad, clicking his teeth at the reluctant jezdic and swinging
his whip to remind them who was boss.