Crying Havoc fk-4 Page 17

  The invasion plan had been simple: the armies of Osla and Falxis would sail up the coast and land on Yelsia’s west coast. King Oveer’s army would sail north from Blue Harbor, across the Sea of Kings, and rendezvous with Baskla’s army to invade Yelsia from the east. Oveer didn’t believe that Yelsia could withstand an invasion, much less fight a war on two fronts, but he had to admit the plan was sound. His job was not just leading the invasion on the eastern front, but also keeping an eye on King Ricard of Baskla. The two northern kingdoms had always been close allies. King Ricard could not deny the rumors of a dragon in Yelsia, which was the pretense of the Council of Kings, nor could he deny the charges of espionage and treason at that council. Still, the Baskla army needed to be held in check with a strong leader, and that was Oveer’s job.

  Unfortunately, the plan had not included instructions on what to do if there were no ships to conscript into his service. Ortis had a small navy, but it was located on the eastern coast, too far away to be of any use. The Great Sea of Kings was a massive, freshwater lake surrounded by three of the five kingdoms. Merchant and fishing vessels were the only ships on the Great Sea, but for some reason, there were none in port. Blue Harbor was an important city and one of the major trade ports on the Great Sea, but the local residents said that no ships had been seen in weeks. There were rumors that all the ships, other than small fishing vessels, were at anchor near Lodenhime. It was all very frustrating to Oveer. He was ready, with over half of his army, to sail north and begin the invasion. It was hot in the late summer sun, and he had been looking forward to enjoying the voyage north, where the cool sea breeze would be a nice change from the weeks he spent traveling south to Osla and back for the Council of Kings.

  “So what do you suggest?” Oveer demanded. “I need ships, not excuses.”

  “Sire, we could send a legion to Lodenhime. I would lead them myself,” said one of Oveer’s generals. His name was Burgon and he was an older man, very practical and efficient in his duties with the army, but completely boring at court.

  “Fine, but you do not need a legion. It would take twice as long for that many men to march around to Lodenhime. I want this seen to quickly.”

  “I could take a century of heavy horse,” said Burgon. “We could be ready to ride in an hour.”

  “Sire, would a hundred men be enough to commandeer the ships we need?” said another of the commanders.

  “It should be plenty,” said Oveer.

  “But there are rumors of a foul nature,” said the commander. He was short and fat, obviously appointed to his position because of family connections at court. His name was Avery, and the King despised him.

  “Don’t trouble us with your craven nature, Avery,” the King said. “Rumors don’t trouble us.”

  “But Your Highness, doesn’t the fact that are no ships at Blue Harbor indicate that perhaps the rumors are true?” said Avery.

  “Witches, an army of besotted farmers, and what else? Do you think a century of heavy horse could not decimate an army of farmers and merchants? Why do you trouble me with your constant worry, Avery? Go and see to the supplies. Make sure we are ready to board the ships as soon as they arrive in port.”

  “Yes, my lord,” said the fat commander, bowing and hurrying from the tent.

  “Take your century and ride,” King Oveer commanded. “I will see you back here with enough ships to move the army north in three days. Don’t delay, commander.”

  “Yes, sire,” said Burgon. He saluted and then left the tent.

  “What of my entertainment?” the King asked.

  The steward clapped his hands and a trio of musicians entered the tent, followed by a troupe of dancers, most dressed in silks so sheer that they did little to cover the dancers’ lithe bodies. The King and the remaining army commanders settled in as the entertainment began. There was wine and food served, with servants hurrying to meet the smallest need or want. As the King and his commanders filled the rest of the day with debauchery, Burgon rode south along the coastal road that curved toward Falxis and the sea port at Lodenhime.

  * * *

  “My lord,” cried a portly man who was attempting to run across the courtyard. “Her Highness’s rider is returning! He is riding fast. Shall I go to the Lady Gwendolyn to give her the news?”

  Prince Wilam looked at the man with unveiled contempt. He knew the pudgy merchant was looking for any excuse to get close to the Queen of the Sea. He also knew Gwendolyn hated to wait for anything, and taking her news that she would only have to wait on would put her in a bad mood. He would wait for the rider; after all, sending out scouts had been his idea. Why should someone else get the credit for his work? Of course, it didn’t occur to him that he would be taking credit for the work the scout had done.

  “Don’t be a fool,” he said contemptuously. “Get back to your post!”

  “Yes, my lord,” the man said.

  He hurried back to his station on the watchtower while Prince Wilam paced impatiently. He had given the scouts instructions to send men back to bolster their numbers at the Castle but to return themselves only if they discovered signs of danger. Being in Gwendolyn’s presence made him forget many things, such as his loyalty to Yelsia. The past no longer mattered to Prince Wilam; he only cared about pleasing Gwendolyn. There were times when she seemed so close to giving in to his advances. He was a crown prince after all. If she married him, all of Yelsia would be hers, but she had so far resisted his charms. He hoped that the scout was bringing good news: victory in a small battle might distinguish Wilam in the witch’s eyes, and it was only a matter of time before King Zorlan sent troops from Luxing City to confront Her Highness.

  He watched as the gate was opened. The fortifications around the Castle on the Sea had been his idea and had kept him busy for weeks, as had training the merchants, laborers, and farmers who made up Gwendolyn’s army. They were as ready as they could possibly be for combat. Defending the fortified Castle gave them a strategic advantage that might level the odds if they had to face regular soldiers, as long as they weren’t terribly outnumbered.

  The rider came galloping in. He was covered with sweat and dirt and his horse was foaming at the mouth from exertion. The scout swung down off the horse, whose head was now hanging down, almost in the dirt.

  “I hope your news is worth the life of that horse,” Wilam said. “You’ve ruined it, you careless oaf.”

  “I thought the Lady Gwendolyn should know the news as quickly as possible,” the rider said.

  “What news?” Prince Wilam demanded.

  The rider’s hopeful look was dashed. He realized then that his hopes of being able to report to Gwendolyn were gone. He raised his eyes to Wilam’s with a look of defiance, but saw immediately that he was hopelessly outmatched. The Prince wore a cool look of confidence that was unmistakable, and the rider realized that Wilam was ready to kill anyone who disobeyed him.

  “Soldiers are coming. An entire century of heavy horse,” the rider said.

  “From Luxing City? I’m surprised it took them this long.”

  “No, sir,” the rider said. “Along the coastal rode from Ortis.”

  “Ortis?”

  “That’s right, sir. They’re flying their colors plain as day.”

  “How far away are they?”

  “A few hours, at most. They’re riding fast.”

  “A hundred of them, you say?”

  “That’s right. They’re riding in formation and I could count them.”

  “Are there foot soldiers behind them?”

  “No sir, not that I could see.”

  “Did you look?” Wilam demanded.

  “I was watching the coastal road. I counted the riders and then came back here as fast as I could.”

  “Get yourself another horse and go back. I have to know what we’re facing. Look for soldiers on foot and for supply trains.”

  “Can you please let the lady know I brought the news-”

  “Yes, yes,” Wilam said a
ngrily, interrupting the scout with a wave of his hand. “I’ll make sure the Queen knows you were doing your job. I’ll also let her know you didn’t do it well.”

  “I’m sorry,” the man said, obviously crushed both by the realization that he had not done his duty as well as he had thought and because he had to ride back out again.

  “This time, take better care of your horse, or I’ll have you beaten and thrown into the sea.”

  “Yes, sir,” the man said.

  Prince Wilam didn’t wait to see that the man did as he was ordered. He hurried into the Castle to give Gwendolyn the news. He was halfway through the feasting hall when the Queen appeared. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and she hurried to Wilam.

  “There are soldiers approaching?” she asked.

  Anger blossomed in Wilam so violently that his vision turned red for a moment. He looked over Gwendolyn’s shoulder and saw the gloating look of Keevy, the Castle steward. Obviously the sneaking little bastard had eavesdropped on the scout’s report and then hurried to be the first to bring the Queen news, even if it was only a portion of that news. He vowed then to kill the steward.

  “Prince Wilam!” Gwendolyn said loudly.

  “I’m sorry, my Queen.”

  “Don’t make me wait on news of this magnitude.”

  “Yes, my lady. A century of cavalry troops are riding this way. Ortis troops traveling along the coastal road.”

  “Excellent. When will they arrive?”

  “They aren’t coming to parlay,” Wilam said.

  “Don’t you dare try to tell me my business,” Gwendolyn said angrily, her voice rising in volume so much that it seemed supernatural. “I am Queen here, never forget that!”

  Wilam was a proud man, a trained warrior, and the firstborn son of King Felix of Yelsia. Still, he cowered under the wrath of Gwendolyn. He was both frightened and worried at having displeased her. She had taken Prince Wilam into her confidence when he had come to the Castle with Quinn and Mansel. She had sent them on an errand but she had kept Wilam close, and he had naturally hoped that she would favor him as her lover. But Gwendolyn showed no interest in romance. A sorceress, Gwendolyn fed off the magical power of her twin sister, who was a warlock, unable to control her own magical power. Gwendolyn used that power to bewitch the men around her, all smitten and helpless in her presence, so that they did whatever she asked. The end result was usually bloodshed. Men could not stand to see those around them favored, and their jealously would eventually erupt in some form of physical violence, but Gwendolyn was determined to hold them in check, at least for now.

  “They will arrive in a few hours, if the scout was correct, my lady,” Wilam said, bowing in submission.

  “Good, we have plenty of time to prepare. Make sure that all the sailors are in the compound. I don’t want any of them in the town. I shall confront the soldiers myself. Keep your men in check, Wilam. I don’t want to lose any of the soldiers.”

  “You mean to fold them into your service?” Wilam asked, shocked at the thought. His years of military training in Yelsia had emphasized loyalty, and while he had discarded his own loyalty, the thought of other soldiers joining their number was repugnant to him.

  “That’s right, my good Prince. They will join us; they will join your army. We must have a large army to fulfill my plans.”

  “But I could defeat them,” Wilam said, trying not to sound like a little boy wanting to impress his mother. “I know that I could beat them in battle. Besides, what good will cavalry do us here? We are in a perfect defensive position. We don’t need to sally forth. These walls are our greatest asset.”

  “No, I am our greatest asset,” Gwendolyn said angrily. “Do not question my plans, or I will have you removed from my presence, is that understood?”

  She was bluffing. She needed Wilam, but she didn’t want him to know that. His desire for her would bring him back in line. He would do anything to ensure that he stayed close to her.

  “Yes, of course, my Queen. Forgive my impudence.”

  “It is forgiven. Now do as I command.”

  He bowed, then hurried out of the Castle. He dispatched men to ensure that everyone who was loafing in town was summoned immediately back to the Castle. Lodenhime was a busy city in normal times, but Gwendolyn’s presence had drawn all of its men to her service so that none of the usual activities were being done. Merchants let their wares rot in warehouses or abandoned shops. Laborers used their skills only as the witch needed them to. The women of the city were terrified but carried on as best they could while their husbands and sons wasted their days plotting ways to win Gwendolyn’s attention.

  Once Wilam had everyone in the Castle, his conscripted soldiers took every precaution to ensure that the Castle was secure. He gave very specific orders that no one was to fight. Gwendolyn intended to confront the soldiers, and that meant that his men had to stand at their posts and do nothing more than watch.

  The courtyard was full of people. The news of the soldiers’ approach had everyone on edge. The sailors had not been conscripted and were unruly. They despised Wilam, but they did not challenge him. His royal bearing and the broadsword he wore at all times (except on evenings when he was allowed to spend time with Gwendolyn and Andomina in their private quarters), let the others know he was no one to trifle with.

  The scout returned after two hours. He was just as filthy as before, but this time his horse was in better condition. He was admitted into the Castle courtyard and rode up to the Castle steps. Gwendolyn and her sister were sitting on a padded bench at the top of the stairs that led into the large, stone fortress. An awning had been constructed to keep the sun off their flawless skin. The scout dismounted and knelt before the steps until Prince Wilam waved. He was led up toward the Queen to give his report.

  “There are no other soldiers,” the scout said, having trouble forming his words under Gwendolyn’s intense gaze.

  “Are you certain this time?” Wilam demanded.

  “Yes sir, I watched the riders pass, then rode on. There’s no one else on the coastal road.”

  “How close are they?” Wilam asked.

  “They’ll be in the city any time now. I wouldn’t expect it to take them more than half and hour to find us here.”

  “Good,” Gwendolyn said. “We have time for a drink.”

  Keevy hurried out of the Castle with a large pitcher of wine. He poured the wine into a crystal decanter filled with fresh fruit, then swirled the concoction around before serving drinks to Gwendolyn and her sister.

  “When the soldiers are in sight of our walls, I want to know it,” Gwendolyn told Wilam.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “I shall address them from above the gatehouse.”

  “What if they attack?” he asked her.

  “They won’t.”

  “But if they do, you’ll be exposed.”

  “I’ll have you with me,” she said flirtatiously. “You wouldn’t let them hurt me, would you?”

  “Of course not, Your Highness.”

  “Good, then there’s nothing to worry about.”

  Gwendolyn finished her drink and was deep into her second when word came that the soldiers were approaching. Gwendolyn stood, and most of the men in the compound moved forward anxiously. They wanted to be close to her, but Wilam pushed them out of the way. He had a large shield on which someone had painted two beautiful sirens that looked strikingly like Gwendolyn and Andomina.

  The witch was confident and smiling as she walked across the courtyard. She kept her head high and met no one’s gaze, as if to say that she was above them all. They were like worker bees in a hive, swarming around their Queen. Andomina followed her sister. She was lovely in her own way, but she had none of the confidence or royal bearing that her sister possessed. She looked only at the ground and never spoke. She followed her sister wherever she went and seemed more like a shadow than an actual person.

  Wilam led them up the narrow staircase that led to the top
of the guardhouse. Wilam had ensured that the buildings around the Castle’s walls had been destroyed and the debris removed. It had created a large open area where attackers would find no shelter from the arrows, rocks, and spears that could be rained down upon them. Wilam called the area a killing field. The century of heavy horse cavalry were in a long line on the far side of the killing field when Gwendolyn reached the top of the gatehouse and could see them.

  “Come to me,” she said, her voice once again unnaturally loud.

  The soldiers didn’t move at first.

  “I would know you all,” Gwendolyn said, her voice as sweet as honey.

  Wilam felt his own jealous fears of being replaced loom up in his mind, but he fought them down and looked at the men standing watch on the walls. They seemed steady enough, but one wrong move and they might very well attack. Hearing Gwendolyn seem to be giving favor to anyone aroused the fury of the men already in her service.

  “Come to me, please,” she said, her voice coaxing and tempting them to move forward.

  For another long moment no one moved. Then finally, one lone soldier spurred his horse forward. Wilam braced himself for an attack, but almost immediately the first soldier was joined by others. At first they seemed to come, one by one, but it was only a minute before the entire century of soldiers was hurrying forward.

  “Join me,” Gwendolyn was saying. “You have a place here, with me and mine.”

  The cavalry soldiers all wore heavy armor, including helmets with face guards. They were raising their visors and throwing down their lances as they approached, each one trying to speak directly to Gwendolyn. The result was a cacophony of noise as each man pledged his love and his sword to Gwendolyn’s service. She smiled down at the men, who were obviously smitten with her, then she turned to Wilam with a gloating look in her eye.