Dwarven Ruby (28 page)

“But they will eventually,” countered Tedi. “If they are determined enough, they can follow the tracks.”

“The Lanoirian army does not have the patience for that,” interjected Adan. “When Caroom leads them to the wrong place, they will tire and return to Lori. Caroom, however, will continue to track us. He must be eliminated before he can report back to the army that he has found the new campsite.”

* * *

Lord Parsiki of Southland stood upon the wall around the city of Klandon.  His fingers stroked his long thin mustache as he gazed out over the multitude of worshipers spread out before the city gates. Only once before in his thirty-five years had he seen anything like it, and he had not liked the outcome the last time he had witnessed it. He looked momentarily at the slightly older man next to him and then returned his gaze to the plain outside the city.

“It is a potent show of force,” Lord Parsiki said to the man next to him.

“It is a large gathering of misfits,” scowled King Altaro, his military frame held erect. “This Azmet may be able to gather people to his cause, but a load of rabble does not an army make.”

“That does not make it any less dangerous,” retorted Lord Parsiki. “His people are willing to die for him. Ten thousand martyrs are enough to defeat any army.”

“That is where we disagree, Lord Parsiki,” insisted King Altaro. “Would ten rats chase you from your home?”

“If they were poisonous rats that could kill you with one bite,” nodded Lord Parsiki. “Do not underestimate these people, King Altaro. Death does not deter them. They believe that a better life awaits them beyond the pall of death. They are much too eager for the solution you wish to deliver to them. Even in death, their poison will destroy your kingdom.”

“That is something that does concern me,” frowned King Altaro. “Your description of the devastation inflicted on Southland troubles me greatly. It is imperative that not one of these fools enters the city.”

Even as he spoke, King Altaro watched the young man emerge from the small hut situated on the wagon behind the statue of Abuud. The martyr leaped off of the wagon and began running towards the city gates. King Altaro watched dispassionately as the martyr came closer to the city.

“Fire!” bellowed King Altaro.

Half a dozen arrows flew through the air. Four of them struck the martyr and he tumbled to the ground. Shouts ran through the assembled worshipers like waves in a storm, but nobody attempted to retrieve the body of the fallen martyr.

“Burn it,” shouted King Altaro.

A lone flaming arrow sped its way to the corpse below. The arrow imbedded in the martyr’s back, but the flames sputtered out. Three more flaming arrows flew from the wall. Two ignited the pants of the martyr and the third struck the red headscarf. King Altaro watched as the clothing began to burn.

“We need a more effective way of burning the bodies,” King Altaro voiced with frustration.

“Some of the fire glue used in the old wars against the goblins would do the job,” offered Lord Parsiki.

“It would indeed,” nodded King Altaro. “If only any of us knew the formulation of it. While the fire glue was passed out to the archers in that war, the formula was not. I doubt there is any more of it left in the world.”

“Perhaps,” mused Lord Parsiki, “but I have heard of it being used recently. Or at least rumors of it.”

“What have you heard?” probed the King of Klandon.

“Some time ago there was a massacre in a pass of the West Mountains,” stated Lord Parsiki. “Dozens of Dark Riders were burned in the pass. It was eerily reminiscent of the goblin wars. Even more interesting was the timing. About the same time the name Alexander Tork began circulating. If anyone has a source of fire glue, my bet would rest with Tork.”

“Little good that does us,” frowned King Altaro. “Rumors of Tork have been around for twenty years, but nobody ever seems to be able to find him. I would be willing to bet that his name surfaced because of the use of fire glue, not because anyone actually saw him alive. Still, it does indicate that there may be some fire glue left in the world. I would give almost anything to get my hands on some of it now.”

“What do you think Azmet will do next?” asked Lord Parsiki. “At Southland we never got to see anything past this point other than burning our own dead.”

“I suspect that he will try several more of his martyr attacks,” mused King Altaro. “At least one of them will be at night when we can not see what they are doing. After that things will get truly dangerous. If they have any military people with them, they will start building catapults to hurl their martyrs over the wall.”

“There is little you can do to stop that,” frowned Lord Parsiki. “Will you evacuate the city then?”

“We will not roll over for them like a pet dog,” snarled King Altaro. “We will evacuate the women and children by rafts down the river to Mya. My men are building the rafts as we speak.”

“You are committed to keeping your men here then?” quizzed Lord Parsiki.

“We are also building catapults of our own,” sneered the King of Klandon. “When we start hurling the infected bodies back at them, they may decide that spreading the Black Death is not in their best interests.”

“Surely your own men will become infected by loading the catapults,” gasped Lord Parsiki. “Your people will revolt and throw open the gates to Azmet.”

“My men are also willing to die to preserve their home,” retorted King Altaro. “Do you think Azmet will stop his pillaging once Klandon falls? It is logical that Mya will be the next city that Azmet targets with his foul disease. That is where the families of my men will be. I will have no shortage of men to fill those catapults.”

* * *

“Thank you for coming, gentlemen,” greeted Oscar Dalek as he walked into the plush sitting room. “I trust you had no trouble with getting into the city, Sergeant Trank?”

“Not with the likes of what Targa has guarding the walls these days,” smiled General Gregor’s sergeant. “After all, we have managed to get three thousand men in so far, and I am not quite as noticeable as they are.”

Konic and Alan laughed along with Oscar at the sergeant’s sense of humor. Oscar soon adapted a more serious pose as he sat with his five guests.

“The Sydar incident troubles me,” Oscar began. “We came very close to destroying the covertness of our operation. If that happens, civil war will erupt. We must avoid that at all costs.”

“Has Sydar been heard from?” asked Sergeant Trank.

“He has been sent to Tice with his sister,” stated David Jaynes. “A ship with her children on it will depart from here in a few days and pick Sydar and his sister up in Miram. Fortunately, he revealed practically nothing to Colonel Salvo, but it did point out how weak our operation is. Frankly, we cannot continue to hide three thousand men in this city.”

“You can’t possibly be thinking of sending them out of the city,” interrupted Alan. “It has taken so much time to get them in place.”

“I would not think of such a thing, Alan,” replied Oscar. “Sergeant, how close are we to bringing the queen into the city?”

“A lot of that depends on the reception she gets here,” answered the sergeant. “Our plan was to rule the Council before she arrived. Are we there yet?”

“No,” sighed Oscar. “It has become almost impossible to eliminate the competition. We have three solid votes for the queen and three solid against her. The last three sit on the fence, although I like to think that we exert a fair amount of control over them. We truly cannot depend upon them though.”

“So you are asking the queen to increase her risk?” summed up Sergeant Trank.

“It would appear so,” Oscar nodded hesitantly. “This pleases me much less than you, Sergeant. Remember that she is my mother. Still, I cannot sit idle and watch what we have built up being destroyed. Can we do it? Can we bring her in now?”

Sergeant Trank sat silent for a moment before answering. “If I were to ask Queen Marta,” replied Sergeant Trank, “I know what she would say. She is a feisty mother that you have Oscar. She would not think twice about endangering herself for Arik. In fact, I think she realizes that her participation in this scheme will result in her death. That is the part of this that General Gregor and I are least fond of.”

“What about the Red Swords?” asked Mitar Vidson.

“The Red Swords at the farm are prepared,” Sergeant Trank reported. “We have gone over the procedures until each man has them memorized. Their physical training is complete. In short, we have an excellent fighting force assembled. They are properly armed and motivated to move at any time.”

“Excellent,” nodded Oscar. “How about our preparations inside the city? David? Mitar?”

“I think David and I agree on this,” Mitar began as he looked for an approving nod from David Jaynes. “The details of the queen’s entrance have been worked out and practiced meticulously. I will be handling the Rangers, and David will coordinate the Red Swords. The Rangers will neutralize the gates and the entrance to the Royal Palace. This part of the plan is ready to go at any time.”

“David?” prompted Oscar.

“The Red Swords will secure the route from the gates to the Royal Palace,” declared David Jaynes. “Our success will depend upon the time of day the entrance is planned for. I can guarantee the queen’s safe journey at any time, but nighttime is preferred to keep other casualties to a minimum.”

“Nighttime certainly works better for the Rangers as well,” interjected Mitar Vidson.

“I think we can all agree on a nighttime entrance then,” agreed Sergeant Trank. “It will also ease our approach to the city.”

“What about the queen’s security once she is in the Royal Palace?” asked Konic.

“That is more problematic,” frowned David. “Once Duke Everich learns of her arrival, I expect him to do everything in his power to assassinate her.”

“Even if she is surrounded by three thousand Red Swords?” queried Konic.

“We will not be housing all of the Red Swords in the palace,” David responded. “I think that would invite Duke Everich to lay siege to the palace. If he can remove the queen, he expects to crown himself as king. We have to keep a large portion of our forces outside the palace to take that opportunity away from him.”

“Right,” interjected Mitar. “Remember the goal here is to avoid a conflict. We need the lads that make up the regular Targa army. We all know a bit about what the future holds for Tagaret. It will not be a pretty sight, and every able body will be required. We cannot afford to kill Targa soldiers.”

“We need a bloodless coup,” summarized Alan Markel.

“Exactly,” nodded Oscar. “How many Red Swords will be resident at the Royal Palace?”

“General Gregor was thinking along the lines of one thousand,” answered Sergeant Trank. “One hundred or so in the living quarters area and the rest in the barracks on the grounds.”

“That would mean removing the Targa soldiers that are now occupying the Red Sword barracks,” David pointed out. “That will not be easy to do without alienating some of them.”

“Let me work on that,” offered Oscar. “I will attempt to reduce their number before the queen arrives.”

“So when do we move?” asked Sergeant Trank.

“Unless I hear some serious objections,” Oscar said decisively, “Queen Marta arrives in Tagaret tonight.”

The man in the captain’s uniform stood outside the front door of the Palace Shadow Inn. He leaned casually against the building, appearing to be gazing at the street and the citizens scurrying around. The few other Targa soldiers that passed him saluted without recognition. As the lightness, which Targans had come to call day, flitted away, the captain focused his gaze on the main gate of the Royal Palace. He watched as the carriages of the councilors left the Royal Palace and headed to their respective mansions. Still he waited patiently.

The torches alongside the palace gate were lit and still the captain remained, unmoved by the end of another day. An astute observer would have noticed the slightest of stiffening of the captain’s body when Colonel Salvo rode through the palace gate with two of his men. The captain watched the three Targa soldiers ride off down the street. He smiled thinly to himself as he pushed off the wall and strode casually towards the main gate of the Royal Palace. He whistled loudly as he neared the gate and the posted guards watched him approach.

Although confusion and lack of recognition clouded their faces, the guards saluted as the Captain sauntered through the gate. The captain only acknowledged their salute peripherally as he nodded towards them. Once he was through the gate, the captain ceased his whistling and strode purposely towards the old Red Sword barracks. He entered the main barracks, which held mostly officers. He let the door slam shut behind him. A dozen pairs of eyes turned towards him.

“How many men do we currently have residing in the old Red Sword barracks, Sergeant?” the captain demanded.

“Only three hundred, Captain,” reported the sergeant. “Colonel Salvo assigned some to the harbor area yesterday to catch those children who have been stealing food.”

“I am aware of Colonel Salvo’s orders,” retorted the captain. “I only wanted to know how many are left. Three hundred will have to do I guess.”

“Do for what?” asked another sergeant as he stepped closer to the captain. “I don’t believe we have met, Captain.”

“I doubt that we have, Sergeant,” snapped the captain. “As an adjunct to Colonel Salvo, I do not normally waste my time slumming around the barracks. And it is Captain Bantim to you. Have you men forgotten how to salute your superiors?”

The twelve men immediately stiffened and saluted. Captain Bantim pointedly ignored them.

“As for what, Sergeant,” the captain continued, “Colonel Salvo received information on his way to dinner just now that there is a serious threat against some of the councilors. We need men to immediately relocate to three important estates. I want one hundred for Duke Everich’s estate, another hundred for Duke Jiardin’s estate and the rest to Count Melord’s estate. They are to take their gear with them, as the assignment is indefinite until this threat has passed. Colonel Salvo wants the most skilled of the lot to go to Duke Everich’s estate.”