Song of the Fairy Queen (67 page)

Dressed, they stepped out into the predawn darkness.

“When you see Detrick, have him pass the word that Prince Gawain has returned from exile. That will give people heart. Tell him to bring his people but keep them out of sight if he can for as long as he can. The less Haerold knows about our numbers, the better.”

She nodded. “Once my people arrive, I can send someone to Detrick to scout and pass information.”

A dozen people swarmed behind them to tear down their tent as they walked toward the King’s pavilion.

The Marshals waited, some forming up around Oryan and Gawain and the party taking down the tent, while others waited until they saw Morgan before saluting and fading back into the woods. The last group were mounted and waiting for them.

Deandra gave them a nod, Caleb waiting with his own and Morgan’s horses. Morgan gave them both a quick salute as he went past to greet the King.

With Gawain following, Oryan walked to meet them, his hand outstretched. “You’re off then?”

Morgan nodded, taking the offered hand firmly. “Yes. Stay safe, Your Highness.”

“I will,” Oryan said.

Morgan looked at Gawain. “You do the same.”

“Yes, sir,” Gawain said, “Thank you, sir. And thank you, Lady Kyri.”

There had been little time to truly get to know the boy, but what Morgan had seen gave him heart, as did his words.

“Take care of yourselves,” Kyri said, “both of you. And Gawain, it’s still just Kyri.”

Gawain lifted his chin, grinned a little and nodded.

She glanced at Galan, behind them.

He smiled, heart to heart.

“And you, as well,” Oryan said.

Morgan kissed her quickly in farewell, they’d said their goodbyes in the tent in private. They would see each other soon.

Kyri’s wings unfolded.

Morgan smiled, looking at them and her. She was so beautiful, such a wonder. He loved watching her fly.

Lifting up on her toes, she kissed him lightly, then turned and ran, her wings stroking. Her feet left the ground, wings beating. She circled around, once, twice, gaining lift and height. Rising up above the trees, the first light of dawn touched her wings and turned them to gold.

One last glance down at them all and then she was gone.

Missing her already, Morgan strode to his horse.

He saluted the King and led his people out.

Kyri, high in the sky, scanned the ground below as she passed over the edge of the forest to see the first line of Haerold’s forces approaching. He hadn’t done this by half measures. And had moved far more quickly than they’d expected.

Instantly she turned, diving to intercept Morgan and his people first, dodging and darting between the trees.

“Morgan,” she cried.

Surprised and alarmed, Morgan looked up as Kyri hovered briefly, wings beating.

“Haerold’s men are on their way, at least fifty, riding hard. If you continue this way you’ll ride right into them.”

Nodding, he said. “Go warn the others.”

“I’m going there next.”

Oryan, too, was surprised to see her, too.

“If we have to, we’ll abandon the tents,” he said, to her warning. “We’re going now, people! Dee, send someone to your people and warn them to expect visitors more quickly than expected. Go, Kyri! We’ll handle it here.”

With a nod, she shot up, stroking hard, heading south along the treetops toward Detrick and his camp.

As Kyri drew closer to Remagne she saw clear signs Haerold was at work controlling the populace. Patrols of Hunters and men were spread through the countryside. From one village smoke rose. She shook her head, flying higher, harder and faster.

Detrick wouldn’t have kept his camp too long in the same place but this was his territory so she knew she was close.

She caught a glimpse of people moving between the trees and dropped to treetop level, then below the canopy, swooping between the trunks until she saw Detrick.

“Hello the camp,” she called. “Detrick, don’t shoot.”

“Kyri?” he said, hearing her familiar musical voice, turning, looking up in surprise at seeing her again so soon. “Everyone stand down.”

“The same,” she said, “coming down.”

Startled eyes watched her descend.

“What’s going on?” Detrick said, “Kyri, you shouldn’t be flying around. Do you know what they’d do to Fairy if they catch them?”

“It doesn’t matter, Detrick,” Kyri said, “the time is now or never. Haerold is on the move. The boy we had with us, do you remember him?”

Detrick nodded.

“That was Oryan’s son, Prince Gawain. He’s with his father now.”

Everyone around them was getting to their feet, some people calling to others, whispers going from one to another. Excitement built. Others darted between the trees, coming at a run.

“If you’re in,” Kyri said, “then send messengers to the local villages. Warn them that Haerold is cracking down, troops and Hunters are already fanning out. Morgan asks if you can bring your people north, but go west to start and stay undercover. Haerold mustn’t see you if you can manage it.”

“In? Of course we’re in,” Detrick said, as the camp exploded into seeming pandemonium, his people racing to pack gear and weapons. “We’ve been waiting years for this. How will we make contact?”

Kyri smiled. “The old way. In a day or two one of my people will make contact with yours. They can act as scouts, too.”

“Gaia?” he asked and something in his expression mirrored something she knew too well.

Much to his dismay, Detrick had found he’d missed the merry little Fairy after she was gone. He’d been delighted she wanted to share his bed – such were Fairy – it had been a shock, though, to realize he’d fallen in love with her.

“If she chooses. Who else can I contact?” Kyri asked.

He grabbed her hand. “This is great, wonderful. Finally we can fight back. I’ll send messengers to the ones we pass. Go to Robert, he’s further east. A sharp little man…”

The picture was in her head…

“His camp is at the top of a rise if you follow this ridge for a time.”

She nodded. “All right. You have to move quickly, Detrick. Morgan estimates we have a month, maybe more.”

There was shock in Detrick’s eyes but he nodded. “We’ll get there. Somehow.”

Kyri took off… her mind on Morgan.

At the edge of the forest the Marshals fanned out, some whipping their horses into a run.

They would have to circle around Haerold’s men to head south and east.

Morgan and Caleb headed due east at a steady gallop.

“Is Patterson still Marshal up here?” Morgan asked.

“Last I heard, Captain,” Caleb said, frowning a little.

“A problem?”

He’d been a chancy man at best, had Patterson, a little prickly, but he’d done the job and no one had complained of him to Morgan’s hearing. About Morgan’s size, with brown hair and brown eyes, a little impressed with himself, Patterson had considered himself a handsome man and wasn’t shy about showing it.

Caleb hesitated. “A bad feeling only, Cap’n.”

Morgan nodded. That was enough for him to be cautious.

The group found Morgan and Caleb first and it seemed from the look on Patterson’s face that not everyone was glad to see Morgan free and alive.

It wasn’t a good sign.

“Morgan,” Patterson said, shortly.

Behind him, some of Patterson’s men looked hopeful, but hesitant. A few whispered to others, the younger to the older.

“Morgan? That Morgan?”

With nods. “That Morgan.”

“Patterson,” Morgan said, dropping his hands to the pommel of his saddle to study the other man.

“What do you want?” Patterson demanded.

“Your sworn duty as a Marshal,” Morgan said. “To defend the King and Kingdom. Haerold moves on Oryan. Oryan has commanded me to gather the Marshals.”

“I command my people,” Patterson said.

Behind him, some of his men straightened, staring at him tensely.

Some men, given a little power, went mad with it. Patterson had apparently liked being his own master. From the looks of some of his men, they weren’t too happy about that. Although Patterson hadn’t gone completely mad, Morgan suspected this would push him over the edge.

“Go back wherever you came from, Morgan,” Patterson said, “We don’t need you here.”

Most of Patterson’s people straightened in their saddles.

Keeping his voice level, Morgan said, “You swore an oath to me, Patterson. That means you answer to me. Any of you who consider yourself Marshals, you ride with me or you ride north to defend the King, your choice. Someone will contact you.”

“Stay where you are,” Patterson snapped.

“Are you defying an order from your commanding officer and your rightful King?”

“What?” Patterson said defiantly, “You think you can come back and then just take over like nothing happened?”

“I think I’m High Marshal,” Morgan said. “By King Oryan’s order and his warrant.”

“My men aren’t going anywhere,” Patterson said.

One of them shook up his horse and rode around to Morgan’s side.

Patterson pulled his sword. “Not one more step.”

In an instant Morgan had his own sword in hand. “You try to stop him from doing his sworn duty, Patterson, and it will be you and me. You don’t want it to be me.”

Patterson looked at him in fury as his people to a one rode around to take up their places behind Morgan.

“We didn’t sign up to serve you, Patterson,” one of them said, “we signed up to serve our Kingdom and King.”

His jaw tightening, Patterson could only glare.

“You men and women,” Morgan said. “Go home and take care of your business there, first. Either ride north and we’ll have someone contact you or meet me south of the fork in the east road. I’ll be camping there. If you know anyone else who wants to join with us, bring them. Send warnings out to the villages that Haerold will be coming down on them as you go.”

Burning with fury, Patterson watched helplessly as his people rode out.

With an ironic salute, Morgan started to turn his horse away.

Caleb shouted warning, “Captain.”

Morgan parried the sword that descended toward his head and now it was strength against strength, sword to sword, as Patterson tried to force Morgan’s blade down. Morgan twisted his wrist, turning his sword and Patterson nearly fell out of the saddle trying to catch his balance. With a quick snap of his wrist, Morgan’s sent Patterson’s sword flying.

Regaining his balance, Patterson found himself face to face with Morgan and a sword at his throat.