The Vitalis Chronicles: Steps of Krakador (28 page)

“
What is it?” Grimes sat forward.

“
We blew the hinges on the Eastern Gate last week... it's still inoperable!”

As he said the words they drove into the square. The far half was filled with scaffolding and construction equipment, and off to their left stood a detail of soldiers who looked very much at the ready.

“
Western battalion?” Saltman said as he saw them. “They shouldn't be within the gates in uniform!”

“
Oh shit...” Grimes gaped at the soldiers. “Get us the hell out of here, Saltman!”

The lieutenant with the soldiers saw them then, the only car entering the square filled with men. The word must have gone out on the wireless by now. Some ran out to bar the road back out of the square while the others took a knee and raised their rifles.

“
GET US OUT OF HERE, SALTMAN
!” Grimes was already cocking his pistol.

Saltman swore, and they careened to the right as the bullets started ripping through the car.

N
INETEEN

R
AIN
R
ENAULT SAT ON HER HORSE, WATCHING HER BROTHER'S ARMY MARCH BY LIKE A RIVER OF GLINTING STEEL
. The trek north would take a long time, simply because of their sheer numbers. Her father had done well in raising this host and keeping it preserved against the Demon's various tricks and assaults over the years. From the various outlying estates there were nearly thirty thousand soldiers in total, though the quality of the majority was a subject for debate.

Most of the cavalry had seen action of one sort or another, but much of the foot soldiers were farmers or craftsmen. Her father had mandated his tribunes to arm their populace and train the men to fight. Some had done so faithfully, while others brought columns of men with swords that were already rusting and who, presumably, maintained abilities to match.

It was a sight to make her sigh, knowing that they would constitute the weakest part of her brother's lines. Even worse, many better men would die because their masters' faithful training would necessitate they be put at the front from the start. The best men in the realm would stand the greatest chance of dying, all because of the laziness and greed of a few minor lords whose men would suffer the same fate should their turn to fight arise.

And what fate had her men met? What had become of Ardin? The thought was never far from her mind, bringing her close to despair should she dwell on it for long. The responsibility to her men had been outweighed, of that she was certain, but to what end? She had abandoned them to help Ardin, and what had he even been able to accomplish? If he was dead, then so were their hopes, and she refused to think about it whenever she could help it.

Her brother sat off to her left, surrounded by couriers on horse who gave or took their messages and departed accordingly. The pomp and circumstance of the days before were nearly lost on them now, for which Rain was grateful. Gauging by his posture, Rendin was glad for it too. He looked far more comfortable commanding soldiers than the affections of the nobility. It was his eventual plan to strip the nobility of their lands and put governors in their stead. Their father had removed their complicated system of titles in his early days as king and had begun to call them his “tribunes.” This was partially to remind them that they owed him tribute, but also to emphasize the importance of their military contributions. It was the only reason he tolerated them at all.

Someday their politics and selfish ambitions would be neutered forever. When that happened she knew her family would be safer, and the people would benefit immensely from greater equalities. But conspiring how to remove the nobility from power while they still held it so strongly was a greater puzzle than Rendin had been able to fully piece together. It had been so for her father as well, but she had faith that if anyone could manage it, her brother could.

She hoped that they would have an opportunity to discuss his thoughts concerning all that was unfolding on the march north, but she feared they would rarely have any time alone. There was too much to attend to; the simple logistics of this movement alone could keep him preoccupied daily. Thankfully her father had raised good counselors around the throne and, more importantly, taught Rendin how to choose his own. His couriers were apt at delivering messages, but experienced men like Bramblethorn were chosen to take more stern orders to the various commanders.

“
Your Highness.” One of the men near her brother guided his horse over towards her as he touched his first two fingers to his forehead. “I doubt you remember me, but I am pleased to see you well and rested from your journey.”

The man was handsome, the deep tan on his face and neck contrasting with the shiny polish on his armor. He was fresh from ranging. “Sir Beldin,” she said as soon as his name came to her. “A pleasant surprise to see you as well. Thank you again for your escort into Albentine.”

Hearing his name on her lips drew a smile to his face; men liked it when you knew their names.

“
My men were wondering what news you carried, though now I suppose we all know. The dust from the nameless mountain settled all across the eastern hills for leagues.”

“
We were grateful the wind did not carry much down into the Vale,” she responded calmly. However her heart was suddenly working to undo her composure. “It would have been most devastating, but the Dragon's Teeth protect us yet.”

“
Where is your companion from before?” Beldin looked around as if he might find Ardin hiding in the bushes. “Is he no longer with you?”

Was there more hope in the question than curiosity?
Don't be foolish,
she chided herself. “He is not here, no.”

“
What has become of him, Highness?”

For some reason she blushed against the curiosity, which only caused her anger to flare in response. “I'm afraid I do not know, Sir Beldin.”

Beldin gracefully evaded the rebuke. “Could a man so easily vanish from your welcoming company?”

The response disarmed her anew. She didn't know how much she should say, let alone what to say, but before she had to, Sir Beldin's eye was caught by movement below.

“
It looks like I should be going,” he said as he turned his horse to leave. “Until the next time, my lady.”

Rain realized she was disappointed to see him go. From the base of the low hill, a group of mounted men in massive white plate armor broke from the column and made the ascent towards them. Her brother's bodyguard was placed to bar the path up, but parted to let them through.

“
Chaplains, brother,” Rain said to let him know they were coming. The sight of the crimson pennants of the bloodthirsty holy men made her uneasy. They were great soldiers, but rogues at best. Dangerous to the enemy, but potentially more so to her brother.

“
A moment, please.” Rendin dismissed the messengers softly and walked his horse forward a few steps to wait for the Chaplaincy. Blassen moved to stand on Rendin's left. The man's face almost appeared more grim than usual to Rain.

“
I see the Trench is leading them today,” Rain said as she came up to join them.

“
He'll probably be leading them from now on.” Rendin never turned to look away from the approaching knights. “Hallofax is on his deathbed by all accounts. I'm surprised they responded to my summons at all.”

“
The Trench was always one for a fight,” Rain said softly.

The Trench was known as such because of a massive gash in his armor that ran from the eye of his helmet down to his chest and then across his shield. It was said he earned the scar fighting a river Titan, and never had it fully repaired to remind men just who they were dealing with. Rendin waited until the men were well within hailing distance and slowing before he acknowledged them.

“
Hail the men of the White Shield! May the Maker smile upon your blades and rust the enemy's in his sheath.”

“
Indeed,” growled the Trench from behind his high visor. The amount of metal each man carried on his shoulders and head alone weighed as much as all of Rain's armor combined. “Well met prince-king. We have had word of your movements and will accompany you north.”

“
Of course,” Rendin conceded politely. “Your famed war hammers will be welcome on the battlefield.”

“
And much needed, I should imagine,” another of the masked Chaplains scoffed from behind the Trench.

In their whitewashed armor and crimson mail, each looked relatively like the other. Save for the devices on their shields and chest-pieces that had been painted over, the only discernible difference was the shape of each one's helmet and epaulettes. The difference in styling of their armor was different enough for the warrior's eye to distinguish, but most would think them identical at first glance. It piqued Rain's curiosity every time she saw them, for she knew that the armor underneath the coats of white belonged to men who no longer existed. Men who had sworn themselves to the Chaplaincy.

“
Wherever evil persists, there we shall be to right it.” The Trench repeated the old oath solemnly. “We will ride with your van, and kill any who harry your scouts.”

“
You will find supplies and a warm welcome, to be sure.” Rendin nodded his consent again.

“
A chance to fight the Relequim himself, that is what we want!” A Chaplain near the rear raised his massive war hammer, the head of which alone was as large as Rain's torso.

“
Indeed.” The Trench lifted his broad visor. The scar on his cheek was surprisingly deep, instantly lending more weight to his name. “We fight not for you, prince-king, though I need not remind one so learned as yourself. We fight for all that is righteous in the world, with one Master above and one Enemy below. We will help you fight your war, so long as it aligns with our purpose, and in return we expect to be left well enough alone.”

“
You won't be disturbed,” Rendin said. “So long as I am permitted to call upon you in my need.”

Rain stiffened as the Trench ground his teeth at the request. No one made requests of the Chaplaincy, unless they were begging, but to her surprise the flare of anger she saw in the huge man before her faded as quickly as it showed itself.

“
Well met, prince-king. Of course. As long as your wisdom prevails and we can trust your broader vision of the field, we shall assist you as you need.” He lowered the thick visor back over his face before lifting his hammer towards Rendin. The rest of the Chaplains followed suit. “Lead the fight well, young king, and our hammers are yours.”

They turned and rode back down the hill, perhaps forty in total, though surely more were nearby. Rain exhaled as a huge weight lifted from her chest. The encounter had gone far better than she could have hoped. The bodyguard had been watching the entire exchange; some hands still rested on the hilts of their swords. As the thunderous sound of the Chaplains' horses joined the clamor of the army below, she turned to her brother.

“
How did you know he would accept your leadership?”

“
I didn't.” He looked at her without smiling. “But I couldn't accept any less.”

They took their place at the center of the army, traveling amidst the safety provided by sheer numbers. On days spent traveling, her brother only had the energy to continue forward. When they gave the men a day to rest, he would ride among them, inspecting the camp and offering visible proof of his presence. He had to maintain appearances, which served to help morale. It wouldn't be hard at the beginning, he said, when the march was fresh and battle a distant and glorious myth. But keeping them together after weeks of marching and a few skirmishes would be far different.

What trouble brewed early on fermented in Hembrody's camp, which came as no surprise to any of them. The man was prickly and proud to begin with, but the knowledge that his son had died while serving Rain only embittered him further. His men picked up his attitude quickly enough. Rendin found them cold, even hostile, when he rode among them. On more than one occasion Bramblethorn picked a fight with some heckling soldier as they passed through.

“
Why do you visit their camp, then?” Rain asked him one night. “Wouldn't their hatred fade if you were to give it time to do so? Putting yourself before them continually must only serve as a constant reminder of Branston's death.”

“
I have no choice,” Rendin said in response. “As is true with many aspects of the life of a king, Rain, I must often do what is expected rather than what is prudent. To stop walking or riding among them is to tell them I fear them. They are to fear me, sister, not the other way around. I won't undermine my own authority by letting Hembrody's foolhardy temper push me away from his men. It is to me that they owe their lives, not him. Let them hate me, if they will not love me, so long as they fear me.”

The forested foothills to their left and grassy plains on their right steadily gave way to increasingly barren lands. The road curved away from the mountains by the sixth day, and soon their northeasterly path took them far enough away that Rain could no longer see them on the horizon. Before long they would be in the barren wastes of the north, where she knew they would find the Relequim. Whether he would meet them on the open field or attempt to ambush them along the way, no one seemed certain.