Artesans of Albia: 01 - King's Envoy (41 page)

Heron knew Loxton was an open province, consisting mainly of grasslands and rolling hills. The vast forest surrounding Port Loxton, Albia’s capital city, was far to the north and the few wooded areas of the south offered little cover for raiders who wished to remain hidden. However, he was anticipating changes to their orders very soon and open countryside would better serve their needs.

Shortly after noon, he and Verris had finally met and they were allowing their men a breather under the scant protection of the only tree cover for miles. Abruptly, with no warning, Verris received the message they had both been waiting for.

He dropped the chunk of cheese he was eating and his eyes lost their focus. Heron stopped chewing his strip of meat and watched his rival. The huge grin that appeared on Verris’ face told Heron that all was going to plan. He was both relieved that their initial task had been successfully completed and anxious about the next stage.

He knew there would be major casualties this time, it was inevitable. The Albian forces were every bit as well trained as his and they would be fighting for the protection of their people. They would be intent on inflicting serious injury, while his and Verris’ orders were to preserve their men and keep as many fit for action as possible. Knowing how skilled Albian swordsmen were, Heron was fearful this instruction was going to prove impossible to obey. He could only do his best.

“Well, that’s it, Heron,” said Verris suddenly, smug satisfaction coloring his tone. “Now the real work starts. I’m going to enjoy this. No more running away like frightened sheep, now we get to show these peasants just how well we can fight.”

“Just remember the reason we’re doing this, Verris,” cautioned Heron, disliking the gleam of menace in his eyes. “Lose too many of your lads and you’ll be called to account. That won’t advance your career or endear you to the Duke.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Verris sneered. “Think I’d jeopardize my position? I’m not going to throw my lads away on the real fighters, I’m not stupid. No, I’m going to target the ones who can’t fight back. I’m fed up with burning houses and cow byres, it’s time to show these Albians what we can really do. And what better way to lure out the human forces? How much quicker do you suppose they will respond when they see their precious peasants dying?”

“Yes, but that’s my point, Verris. You get them really angry and you’ll have to stand and fight them. That’s what we’ve been instructed to do. Keep up the pressure, intensify the action. If we’re to convince them we mean business, we can’t turn away when they send out their strength. That’s when our lads will begin to pay.”

Verris scowled. Heron knew that caution was not in his nature. Verris knew their orders as well as Heron did and he was not under Heron’s command. If anything, he probably thought Heron should be answering to him; he was part of the Duke’s forces after all, while Heron merely served under Sonten. And everyone knew Verris had no respect for Sonten. In his eyes, the General was nothing but a lump of lard with no expertise. Verris thought Sonten held his rank through political skill, not tactical. He had said on many occasions that he could do a better job on both counts. The coming conflict, thought Heron, would give him the opportunity to prove it to the Duke. The rank of general, he knew, would suit Verris fine.

“You do what you feel comfortable with, Heron,” said Verris. “You carry on as you always do, stay within your boundaries and take no risks. That way you’ll keep your rank. Just don’t get in my way and don’t countermand my orders. You may be happy to remain a commander but I have higher goals. I suggest you rouse your men because we have a war to wage and I, for one, intend to enjoy it.”

He took to his feet, scattering the remains of their makeshift meal, and strode toward his men. Heron watched him go before gaining his own feet, frustrated and angry. Verris was a good leader, no matter Heron’s reservations. He could wish the man was less abrasive, but that was just his nature. Irritatingly, he was as likely to succeed in his ambitions as anyone Heron knew. Sometimes, Heron wished the man would fall over his huge ego and suffer the same humiliations everyone did. The day he did would be the day Heron began to like him.

Sourly thinking that the day would never come—some men seemed immune to paying for mistakes, no matter how obnoxious they were—Heron dismissed the man from his mind and began planning his forces’ deployment. The rest of the day and night would be exhausting enough without concerning himself over Verris.

Dawn was chasing away the shadows as Taran woke from a vague and disturbing dream. He moved his head to ease the kink in his neck and as his eyes opened, he saw the Major sitting cross-legged on the bed. Her eyes were open, huge and black but unseeing, and Taran guessed she was communing with General Blaine. He wondered how the General would take the news about Rykan’s presence and Sullyan’s suspicions.

The Major had obviously been awake for some time; she was fully dressed in her combat leathers and her hair was partially braided. The rest of her things were neatly folded on the bed, her sword lying beside them. As Taran watched, her eyes returned to normal and she shook her head. She noticed him and smiled. “Wake Bull for me, Taran,” she asked softly.

He rose and shook Bull’s good arm. Sullyan leaned over Robin and gently touched his shoulder. Both men woke easily, the result of their training and instincts. Taran envied their lack of yawning and eye-rubbing that accompanied his own return to wakefulness.

As they dressed, Robin asked casually, “Any news from the Manor?” Sullyan closed her eyes and the Captain caught her expression. “What?”

Bull looked sharply over. The Major regarded them all before she spoke.

“The news is not good, gentlemen. The invasion has intensified and the fighting has crossed the borders into Loxton Province. It seems the Andaryans have changed their tactics. They are no longer content with burning and destroying buildings, now they are taking a heavy toll on the people. This is an act of outright war.”

Taran went cold and the two military men stared in horror.

Sullyan continued. “Vassa and his men are doing their best and the Colonel has mobilized all the local garrisons, but it is not enough. He has requested support from the Manor. The General wishes to deploy my company, gentlemen, and so you are recalled.”

“We are?” said Robin sharply. “Not you?”

She shook her head. “I cannot leave yet. I must stay for the council meeting and maybe a day or two longer to do what I can to alleviate this situation. I must find out the reason behind the invasion and see what diplomacy can do to rectify it before I return. You must lead the men for me, Captain. You are ready for command and they will follow you. Use your judgment and training to deploy them. General Blaine ordered it and I told him I have every confidence in you.”

Robin was clearly not impressed by this show of trust; his concerns were more immediate than the prospect of assuming his first solo command.

“I can’t leave you here alone,” he said. “Especially not with that predator Rykan.”

Sullyan glared at him. “You have no choice, Captain. The orders are given and we must obey.” Seeing his anguished look, she softened. “Besides, Lord Rykan has already left. I watched his train move out at first light. You need have no worries on that score. I am well on my guard now, he would not trap me like that again. Gentlemen, I suggest you pack and be ready to leave as soon as possible. I will send for the horses. The sooner you return, the sooner my company will be in the field.”

They finished their preparations and a light breakfast that was brought by a maid. Sullyan had hoped to see Harva again, but the elderly woman was nowhere to be found. A servant tapped at the open door and announced the horses were ready. Taran trailed the others as they filed down the stairs. None of the ladies or nobles from last night’s festivities seemed to be up and about yet, much to his relief.

They emerged into drizzly gray daylight and began shrugging into their riding cloaks. The air was much colder and the heavy clouds threatened serious rain. The horses were waiting by the gates, held by grooms. Before he mounted up, Robin turned to Sullyan.

“I really don’t like this, Major. Will you be alright here on your own? It goes against all our training to leave you like this. At least one of us should stay with you.”

She smiled, the gentle expression warming Taran’s heart even though it wasn’t directed at him.

“I know, Robin, but we have no choice. The General needs you to command my company. Bulldog is wounded and I will not risk his weak heart by keeping him here. And Taran is not one of us, for all that he is an Artesan. I will be well enough here. I will stay only today and perhaps tomorrow, but no longer than is necessary. When I return, I will join you and the men in the field. Meanwhile, I will be reporting to the General, and Bulldog can pass the information on to you.”

Taran could see Robin wasn’t convinced.

“I will be as concerned for you as you are for me,” she continued. “I know you will not let me down. Remember your training and everything I have taught you. Keep shielded when you can. Be sure to send any wounded soldiers back to Rienne.”

She gave Taran a quick look and his heart flipped. “Taran, please give Rienne and Cal my regards.”

He nodded and her smile encompassed them all. “Gentlemen, I strongly suggest you return through the Veils as soon as you can. It will mean a longer ride through our own lands, but I will be happier knowing that you are safe on our own soil. And keep an eye out for raiders before you pass through, I want no more injuries before you reach the Manor. Robin, remember to shield Bulldog when you cross the Veils to be sure he takes no more harm from that shoulder.”

She gave Bull’s good arm a squeeze and he grinned. Then she cast Taran a look he couldn’t interpret but before he could speak, she had turned back to the Captain.

“Robin, a private word, if you please.”

She moved away and after passing his reins to Bull, Robin followed.

Taran watched them with interest as they talked. He saw Sullyan gesture, whether toward him or Bull, he wasn’t sure, and Robin’s nod. When they returned, the Captain was wearing a small smile. He didn’t speak, he merely took back his reins from Bull and mounted.

Taran mounted his own stallion, making sure his sword was in hand. Bull did likewise and Robin rested his crossbow across his saddle. With a wooden groan, the great mansion gates wound open and they rode slowly through. Sullyan followed them to the gate and watched them ride down the shanty town’s refuse-strewn track.

When he reached the last hut, Robin reined in and turned. Sullyan still stood in the gateway and she raised her hand in farewell. Robin returned her salute, Bull and Taran doing likewise, and she disappeared back through the portal. The huge gates thudded securely shut. Robin sighed, a worried look on his face, before resolutely turning away.

“Come, on,” he said, “let’s give the horses a run before we cross the Veils.” He put Torka into a gallop that Taran and Bull leaped to match.

They ran the horses until they reached the top of the ridge from which they had first seen the mansion the day before. There, Robin drew rein and Bull and Taran joined him, allowing their mounts to breathe. Robin sat Torka and looked back down the valley, staring solemnly at the dark building with its dirty skirt of huts.

Bull reined over beside him. “Are you alright, lad?”

“I don’t like it, Bull. I don’t like it one bit.”

The big man reached out with his good hand and gripped Robin’s shoulder. “No more do I. But you must remember that she’s been crossing the Veils on and off for more years than you’ve had your powers. She knows what she’s doing. She knows these people and their ways better than anyone else alive.”

“Yes, and look what happened last night. Don’t tell me she wasn’t afraid of the Duke, Bull. I saw the look in her eyes.”

Bull gazed back at the mansion. “No, you’re right, that’s the first time I’ve seen her betray fear of any of them. But Rykan’s an extremely powerful and influential lord and if he has decided to challenge the Hierarch, things could get very serious here. Rykan is Master-elite and as far as I’m aware, Sully is the only individual besides the Hierarch with enough power to rival him. But we don’t meddle in Andaryan affairs, why should we? We don’t care who rules the Fifth Realm and if the Hierarch can’t hang on to his crown, he deserves to be ousted. That’s the natural way of things. There’s no reason for Rykan to feel threatened by the Major. She’s not here to interfere in his plans.”