Seeker (The Source Chronicles Book 1) (33 page)

“So I do not wish to attack in Stillness again,” remarked the King.  “So what?  History points out in many places that waging warfare in winter is not a good idea to begin with.”

“My point, your Majesty, is that if the Commander of your Elite Guard is making this presumption, so, too, is Sir Garvol.”

“You think that Sir Garvol has spies here, in my palace?” asked Wilnar-Medira with some concern.

Dariana tensed.

“I am not aware of such,” remarked the Count.  “But that does not matter.  We should not underestimate any of the leaders of Sharron.  If your Guards believe you are being superstitious, then they, too, are likely thinking much the same.”

Wilnar-Medira slumped back on his throne.  “So if they are aware that I am not comfortable attacking during Winter, then they are likely prepared to meet our attack…”

“On New Year’s Day,” finished the Prime Minister.  Lord Gelva looked at Vular-Murtona.  “So you think that, knowing when we will attack, the Sharron Army may be too well prepared, and our numbers meaningless?”

“Yes,” replied the Intelligence Chief.  “If they know when we are to attack, they stand a better chance of being ready to meet it, either in preparing traps or using engines of some kind or discovering our exact numbers, and planning accordingly.  If we wait too long…all element of surprise is lost.”

“Did you discuss this with General Grom-Valock?” asked the King.  “He has said much the same thing, in response to my plan to attack on the Solstice.  He wishes to launch the attack within three days of the completion of the gathering of our total force.”

Dariana wished that she were invisible.  Willing them to not notice the servant standing just inside the room, she could not leave now if she wanted to.

“You know that Kiran Grom-Valock and I seldom speak,” replied Vular-Murtona.  “I am simply suggesting, Majesty, that your plan may be a shade too predictable…which gives your opponents too much of an opportunity to find something they can exploit.”

King Wilnar-Medira looked clearly conflicted.  “I do not like when so many of my advisors second-guess me.  However…I also know when my plan is eliciting comments from those whom it should not, I would be foolish not to make adjustments as such.”  He looked to his Prime Minister as he arose from his throne.  “Give the order to my General…let them be as ready as possible.  Tell him to attack at his discretion.  Also, I want Sharronian scouts and patrols eliminated at random until then.  The uncertainty should keep them off balance, just long enough to maybe fall apart.” 

He looked at his Intelligence Chief once more, a sly gleam lighting his face.  “Count Vular-Murtona has word that the Princess of Sharron’s rebellion could spark to a civil-war any time now.”

“I’d not heard,” remarked the Prime Minister.

The Count took up the topic.  “Princess Lyrra-Sharron’s band of brigands and outlaws are causing quite a stir, and she has been called to account by that ridiculous body called the Common.  It is still unclear precisely why she is rebelling, or just how large her forces are, but over the last several months nearly half the Sharron Army has been hunting them.”

King Wilnar-Medira’s face took on a wicked grin.  “Count Vular-Murtona would love to get his hands on his counterpart from Sharron, you know.  He has never been able to infiltrate the palace of Varlock-Sharron at all, on any level.  Still…he does provide much useful information.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Lord Gelva concurred.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” intoned Count Vular-Murtona

As they began to walk out of the throne room, Wilnar-Medira turned again.  “Oh, and Lord Gelva, please arrange to have General Criv-Kurlirra sent to the front.  I will not have the head of my Elite Guard speaking of me as he has.  Let that be a lesson to all.  Now then, let us repair to my study.  Servants, have bread, cheese and wine brought to my study.”

Dariana Balgrun bowed, and hurried to the kitchen.

It was all she could do not to curse aloud.  She had to find a way to get this to Sir Garvol.  It was also good to know how poor Vular-Murtona’s intelligence capabilities were compared to Sir Garvol’s.

Dariana considered her options.  There was only one, really.  She had to leave Penkira.  This would be the end of her work here.

It would not be easy.  Leaving the palace unseen, making her way back to Sharron would be treacherous at best.  Much of the border was crawling with Medaelian soldiers, not to mention the complication of finding a fast enough means of transit.  What’s worse, there was no telling if she could make it before it was too late.

She had missed home every now and then.  But she was a professional, and did her duty.  Dariana Balgrun served Sharron, and the greatest service of her life would be accomplished if she could get there with crucial information that could mean the difference between victory and defeat.

Chapter 25

This morning found Varlock-Sharron holding his final court before departing for the battlefield.

Lord Tulock stood just behind the King to the right, staff of office in hand. 

“Your Majesty, that is the days’ formal business to this point,” he stated, looking ready to leave court. 

Usually, the King would be so ready as well, but not today.

“I have one more item to bring forward,” announced the King.

Tulock banged his staff three times to get the attention of all in attendance.  “My Lords and Ladies, his Majesty wishes to present one more piece of business before you.”

The King arose.  “My Lords and Ladies, a great many things occur where they are not visible to any.  Meetings of the Council, for example, and actions taken therein.  There are a number of people who serve Crown and Kingdom well, with much enthusiasm, loyalty, and skill.  It is hard, especially in a time of crisis as we live in now, to reward these people for the duties they perform.  Sometimes, they work for years, and though not overlooked, they may not receive the just rewards they deserve in due course.  Today, I take action to correct one such oversight on the part of Crown.”

He turned to Lord Tulock, who looked confused.  Normally, he was well aware of this sort of thing. 

“Lord Tulock Oran, Seneschal of Sharron, has served me loyally, faithfully, and with the utmost competence and talent for over ten years, now.  Not only does he serve Crown well, he also serves the Kingdom of Sharron most excellently.”

The King changed his tone, becoming reminiscent, informal.  “When I met him, a Captain of the Sharron Army, I was leading my soldiers into another battle.  When he saw my plan, the same approved by my other officers present, he tore it apart, showed me a more sound strategy both bolder and simpler than that we had prepared.  Few men would so brazenly challenge their liege so, but this was the sort of man, however, I had been looking for.  A man of character and strength, capable of not only thinking for himself, but telling his King when he was planning something imprudent.  No man could better serve myself, or my Kingdom, as Seneschal.”

He gestured to Lord Tulock, who wore a wry look, by now presuming where this was leading to.  “Men of the quality of Lord Tulock Oran are hard to find, and to let such time pass un-rewarded is an error that must be corrected with all speed.  Therefore, by power of authority of the Crown, passed to me down from ten generations before, do I, Varlock-Sharron of the House of Anduin, Eleventh King of the House, Guardian of the Kingdom of Sharron, Keeper of the Keys of Justice, General-Master of the Army of Sharron, Baron of the Anduin Provinces, Second Prince of Medaelia, hereby elevate Lord Tulock Oran to the rank and title of Knight of Sharron.”

All those assembled reacted in their own way to this, followed by varying smirks and other knowing expressions from the other members of the Council, of course in on this plan.  Almost no one disliked the man, save those who wished to hold his position. 

Lord Tulock was shaking his head, but wore a sly grin. 

“Lord Tulock, please kneel before me.”

Tulock handed his staff to Lord Norvil Rivarr, who had appeared at his side, also previously informed that this would take place.  A few had known, of necessity.  Tulock knelt before Varlock-Sharron.

Ov Callan approached the King, and made a deep bow before him.  Varlock-Sharron inclined his head, and Captain-General Callan presented him the hilt of his own sword.  The King drew his sword from the scabbard, and placed it point down before his Seneschal.

              “Tulock Oran, son of Cortun Oran, are you prepared to perform the duties and responsibilities of a Peer of the Realm, as a Knight of Sharron?”

“I am, my liege,” stated Tulock proudly, looking up at the King.

“Place your hands upon the blade, Tulock Oran,” commanded the King.

Tulock put his hands on the flat sides of the blade.

“Knights of Sharron have a long tradition, dating back to the days of the beginnings of our Kingdom.  In those days, the Knights of Sharron commanded the Military Forces of the nation, leading the foot soldiers and archers to battle.  Knights of Sharron were counselors to the Kings and Queens of old, as well as ambassadors to foreign lands, and representatives of all that was strong and good of Sharron.  Even today, the Knights of Sharron are powerful and strong representatives of Crown and Kingdom, examples to all.  Do you believe yourself to be of the mettle to join the ranks of the Knights of Sharron, Tulock Oran?”

“I believe I am, my liege,” replied Tulock formally.

“Place your hands on the edges of the blade,” the King ordered.

Tulock did so.

“I would have you swear your fealty to me, as has always been done when one joined the ranks of the Knighthood.  Repeat this oath unto me.  ‘I, Tulock Oran, son of Cortun, Do hereby swear fealty to Varlock-Sharron, King of Sharron, and to the rightful monarchs who follow him, as so chosen by Rite, Council, and Common.’”

“I, Tulock Oran, son of Cortun, Do hereby swear fealty to Varlock-Sharron, King of Sharron, and to the rightful monarchs who follow him, as so chosen by Right, Council, and Common,” repeated Tulock.

“’I will serve the Kingdom of Sharron with honor, doing all duties laid before me as dictated by the rank and title of a Knight of Sharron.  By my own blood upon the sword of the Ruler of Sharron, so knighted, I will uphold the traditions, ceremonies, and honor of a Knight of Sharron.’”

“I will serve the Kingdom of Sharron with honor, doing all duties laid before me as dictated by the rank and title of a Knight of Sharron.  By my own blood upon the sword of the King of Sharron, so knighted, I will uphold the traditions, ceremonies, and honor of a Knight of Sharron,” repeated Tulock again.

The King drew his sword up along Tulock’s hands, drawing blood.  He brought the sword into the air.  “By the blood of this man, Tulock Oran, I so knight him.”  He brought the sword down, tapping first the right shoulder, then the left.  “Upon his shoulders, sworn by his own blood, upon the sword of the rightful ruler of the Kingdom of Sharron, as done before, I hereby knight this man, who shall from this day forward be known to all as Sir Tulock Oran, Knight of Sharron!”

“Hoo-zah!” the assembled cheered.  “Hoo-zah!”

“Arise, Sir Tulock, and resume your duties as Seneschal.”

A wicked grin spreading across his face, Tulock arose.  Lord Norvil, bowing before him, gave him his staff, and a pair of cloths to wrap around his hands to stop the bleeding.  The King handed his sword back to Captain-General Callan, as Tulock resumed his place at the King’s side.

Sir Tulock banged his staff upon the dais twice.  His voice held a deeper note of pride than ever before. “King Varlock-Sharron Anduin, glorious sovereign of Sharron, bids all take leave of this place forthwith, a blessing upon your heads. The next Royal Audience will be convened at his Majesties’ leisure.  Thank you.”

They filed out, most presenting gestures of respect to the newly knighted Seneschal.  The members of the Council, one by one, came to congratulate him.  Admiral Trem-Sharron shook his hand.  Sir Garvol offered congratulations, and promised to tell the story of how and when he had been knighted, always a curiosity.  Captain-General Callan bowed before him, showing his profound respect for the man.  Lady Ara hugged him.  Lady Marna kissed him.

Finally, it came to Tulock standing once more before his King.  Varlock-Sharron had waited for him, having removed his robes of state.  He smiled genuinely at his Seneschal. 

“How does it feel to be of the Greater Nobility now, my friend?”

“You never cease to amaze me, my liege,” commented Tulock.

“You certainly have earned it,” replied the King.  “I can think of none that could deserve it more.” 

“I was caught completely unawares,” Tulock stated, grinning again.

“As you were supposed to be,” the King placed a hand upon his shoulder.  “Tulock, there are so few I trust and respect as I do you.  You are always there for me, and for my Kingdom.  How better can I serve and honor you, than to make you a knight?”

Tulock bowed his head.

“I think perhaps now, those Barons might just treat you with more respect.  House Oran might just be given adjoining lands of uncooperative Barons.”

“You wouldn’t!” Tulock exclaimed.

Varlock-Sharron chuckled a moment.  “Likely not.  But it would certainly give those bastards something to think about, now, would it not?”

Tulock’s responding smirk was particularly wicked.

Varlock-Sharron squeezed his shoulder again.  “Come, my friend.  Unfortunately, this is a glad moment in a time of crisis and sadness.  I am afraid we have duties unpleasant and difficult to return to.”

              Tulock nodded his head in the affirmative, and followed his King.  The brief moment of joy and reward could not offset the difficult crisis and conflict that lay ahead.

*****

As Nadav and his guide topped the ridge, he saw at last a lush valley with a small stream running through it, and many tents set up below.

Torman had with him approximately a third of the total forces of the Falcon Raiders.  It appeared, however, that he had increased those numbers between here and his previous bases. 

As they began to descend into the valley, Nadav became concerned with the apparent lack of defenses.  He looked about, considering this, until he finally noticed that they did in fact have a guard in place.

On higher peaks all around the valley, he caught glimpses of pairs of Falcon Raiders.  He realized these emplacements were quite inconspicuous, yet provided an astounding panoramic view.  Any approaching force could be spotted for miles.

His horse did not like being led along these paths, and Nadav again found himself thankful that Torman had not chosen to camp further in, nor where the peaks and passes were at their highest.

He’d ridden hard since the night before last, sleeping only briefly prior to dawn.  He’d found the Raider stationed at the Crossroads tavern just past sunrise this morning, and it had taken them about five hours to arrive here.  His guide, a raider named Wornam, had known many easy and fast paths to the new base.  Unfortunately, they were narrow, and Nadav had been forced to lead his horse for the past couple hours.

They reached the valley much faster than had been anticipated.  The distance must have been somehow distorted.  Near the bottom of the path, Torman approached, bare-chested and sweaty.  His sword was buckled to his side.

“Nadav,” Torman addressed him.

“Torman,” he replied.

“What brings you out here?”

“Orders from Lyrra-Sharron,” stated Nadav.  “Let’s go somewhere we can talk, shall we?”

Torman nodded his head in the affirmative.  “Walk with me.”

“You may want to order your people to start packing,” began Nadav, as a raider took his horse.  “Everyone comes this time.”

“Everyone?” Torman asked, surprised.

“Yes, everyone,” confirmed Nadav.

“Neva!” called Torman.

Neva Alcarra came up to them.  “Welcome, Nadav,” she acknowledged.  “What is it, Tor?”

“Get everyone ready.  We’re gonna move out.  When you pass the order, join us in the meeting tent.”

Neva acknowledged him, and moved off, calling out the names of several of the Raiders.

Torman lead Nadav to a large ‘A’ frame tent, and pulled back the flap to admit him.  Nadav walked in, and Torman followed.

“Excellent set-up you have here,” commented Nadav.

Torman shrugged.  “A village is usually a lot nicer.  Water?”

“Thank you,” replied Nadav.  Torman went to a pitcher, and poured a goblet full.  He immediately handed it to Nadav.

“Now then, what brings you here, and where are we going, and why?” questioned Torman.

Nadav set down the goblet.  “Lyrra-Sharron has been called to account by the Common.”

Torman’s eyes grew wide.  “That was unexpected.  Is she...comfortable, responding?” 

Nadav shook his head.  “She did not react at all well to the news, no.  But something has...come up, that changed things.”

“Something like...what?” asked Torman.

Neva Alcarra came in, then.  “We’re packing up, Tor.  We can be ready to move in a couple hours, tops.”

Torman took up another pair of goblets for himself and Neva.  “The Common has called Lyrra-Sharron to account.”

Neva raised an eyebrow.  “Really?  I didn’t think she was ready for something like that?”

Torman shrugged again.  “Nadav here was about to tell us more.”

They both turned and looked at the younger man.

“You see, Baron Tilroan found us,” Nadav continued.

“Tilroan?” asked Torman.  “He’s never been supportive of the Anduin family.  What’s put a bee in his helm?”

Nadav cleared his throat.  “It would seem the King has invoked Royal Commission.”

Torman looked momentarily stunned.  “You can’t be serious?  Why?”

“Royal Commission?” questioned Neva.

Nadav took another drink from his goblet.  “It would seem the situation with Medaelia is getting worse.  The King wants as big a force as he can gather.”  He looked at Neva.  “Royal Commission can be invoked by the Crown or Council to draw in the Barons and their household guards, to be used as fighting forces directly at the Crown’s disposal.”