Holding The Line (7 page)

Captain Jak Corley stared at the youngster bound up and tied to the post, then at the young man he had promoted to Squad Leader. "I accept, and so does he," he said pointing to the guard Patrick had spat at, who was about to speak, before being given a stern look by his superior. "You are fined two weeks pay, and furthermore shall report to me each day after training for further duties, the pair of you." Dane looked up, "me sir?" he asked confused. "Oh yes Dane, as much as I admire a man sticking up for one his own. You did question my orders, did you not?" Dane's shoulders dropped, "yes Sir, sorry Sir." Clapping his hands together, "right this business is finished here. Patrick I never want to have to go through this again, understand. Good, I'll see you both later for extra detail then," he smiled at them both and turned to return to his office.

Dane knelt down struggling to untie the knots that held the ropes around Patrick's wrists. "Thanks for standing by me," the older recruit said, starting to realise he had probably acted like a right fool. "No problem, come on we best join the others," he said as he managed to get the rope free. "I need to undo my legs yet," Patrick called after him. Dane laughed, "Sorry, here I'll give you a hand."

Over the past few days, two further sets of housing had been handed over to new occupants. One more row of the family homes had been finished, as well as a number of smaller residences, which they thought suitable for the more elderly amongst their number. The main object of completion however, was the two huge oaken gates, being painstakingly put into place at the entrance to the city. Two teams of ten men, very slowly lowering the huge gates onto the massive iron hinges.

Once these were in position, the city was at least now a fully defendable safe haven for those within. The repairs to the outer walls were now all but finished, and this freed up more workers. Some of these were put on the repairing of the river port, the remainder asked to continue the mammoth task of house building in the city. The keep was also now fortunate to have its own external doors fitted, and work continued on the cities offices being located on the ground and first floors.

Caldar was already sat at his desk, when Luken joined him, and seated himself on one of the two vacant seats. Each prince had papers in hand, having made notes of problems encountered or solutions thought up. Whilst they were alone, they also had a few ideas they wished to run by each other. Two of these involved Lord Galliss and his son, and they thought it best to discuss it before the man joined them.

A knock at the door, and in stepped Lord Galliss, who greeted them both, and Caldar duly gestured for him to be seated. First item on the agenda was the daily report on the progress of the cities buildings. Which was little different from the previous days, with the exception of the main gates. Following that, Galliss proceeded with his treasury report, and handed Caldar a pile of papers that represented monies owed. The crown treasury was paying for the rebuild, so any item not sourced locally, had to be bought in from merchants further south. Items such as glass and the clay pipes used in the sewerage system were all purchased and paid for by them.

They were fortunate that costs did not matter, and so many traders were now sending their wares northwards to them, now that word had spread of the rebuild. Some had moved north and tried to set up in the city itself. What they did not want was traders coming in, and pushing aside somebody else already planning on building, a similar business. As such, they had started a register, and Lord Galliss had reckoned a number for how many of each type of trader they needed. First call was to be given to the refugee's, and any outsider trader encroaching on any fledgling local businessman was turned away.

Once Galliss had finished his reports, Luken nodded to his brother. Caldar spoke, "Galliss, Luken and I were discussing your position with us. Well we wondered if you accept the position of Mayor of New Easton. Of course, it would mean you having to live and work in the city." Lord Galliss did not need long to answer, "I accept. I have already been talking about moving here sire. I need such a challenge, if I am honest, and you probably think me mad for saying as much, but I am thriving on this responsibility for rebuilding the city."

Caldar laughed, "Yes your right, I do think you're mad, but you more than welcome to it. You have no qualms about leaving your estates?" Galliss shook his head, "No sire, not at all. I was only thinking the other day; it is time I passed all that onto Aric. He is a good lad, and I think he is ready." Luken added to the conversation, "We were also wondering about Darak. Do you think he would want to stay in the city, or go back with Aric?"

Lord Galliss pondered the thought for a moment, "No I think he has made friends here. He is as happy now as I have seen him for some time sire. May I say I think that is mainly down to you," he spoke to Luken. "Even those little lessons he has with Taylor, practicing with swords as they do. Well he loves every minute of it." Caldar and Luken eyed each other, before asking, "Well do you think Darak would accept the position of city treasurer?" Luken asked, before adding, "He is a person I trust personally, intelligent and diligent, and someone Caldar and I think perfect for the job." Galliss smiled, "I am sure he will accept, but alas I cannot answer for him. Perhaps run it by him later."

Caldar went on to explain, as Mayor of the city Lord Galliss would be given quarters and offices in the keep, and if Darak accepted, he would be equally housed. The two would be paid a good salary, and live rent-free. In addition, they would have access to the royal staff in supplying them with food and drink. With discussions over, they wished Galliss farewell, and agreed to meet up with him, again as usual the following morning.

A large timber construction was taking place just outside the keep entrance. It was some forty paces in length and twenty from back to front, and standing about five feet above ground level. The area immediately around the keep wall was roped off into sections, and fortunately with no building work taking place in this particular area, meant sufficient space for any crowd. Off to one side, where a section had been marked out for a market square, the cobbles were hurriedly being repaired. This area was going to be used for the musicians and refreshments, all of which would be available freely to all.

After the ceremonies and the area cleared, it meant this part of the city would be ready to use for its intended purpose. It was planned for one day per week to start with, for traders of the area who sold goods not available in the city, to come and promote their wares. It was a fine balancing act, of allowing outside businesses without affecting negatively those starting up in the city. A little further down the line, when the cities inns were up and running, it was hoped this influx of traders would be a good source of income for them.

Dagon was sat besides the river, thinking of his service. He enjoyed the tranquillity of the flowing water, and away from the hammering and banging in the city, was a peaceful retreat for him. He looked up from his several pages of notes, and watched as a small bird, darted down from a low branch into the water, and returning a few seconds later with a small fish. He thought how that bird was an expert in what it did. It had barely broken the surface, in capturing its lunch. Then for some reason he wished that idiotic prince boy were as professional. It was true, that lately, and with much hard work on Dagon's behalf, some modicum of success had been achieved where the boy was concerned.

He pondered on whether he should mention anything about the prince's idiocy and stubbornness in the wedding service, then thought better of it. The young girl he was marrying, it seemed was just as dopey as he was, and Dagon had concluded the two perfectly matched for each other. The older brother, Caldar, for whom he had already written the coronation service, did appear a little more normal. However, even he appeared as impossible to work with as the younger sibling did. He recalled the occasion when he helped the prince back to the keep, after his small job of fixing the woman's arm. All those people had made such a palaver over him it was sickening. It was not as if the boy had healed the world of Cholera or Typhus, all he had done was heal an arm.

He counted his pages, seventeen in all, and hoped that would be enough for the wedding service. He could not think of anything more to say about the couple, little short of being rude, and that was not just in his nature. The service for the coronation was more substantial, some thirty-four pages; after all such an occasion required more detailed and extensive narration.

Chapter 7.

Lord Willem and his contingent of twenty guards stopped at the brow of the hill. Beyond them stood the large city walls of what was now known as New Easton. He had been quite excited at the thought of attending not only the coronation, but a royal wedding as well. After his none stop work overseeing the work on the defensive lines at Berston, it was certainly pleasant to take a break from it all.

As they neared, they were met on the road by a small contingent of mounted guards. "I am General Thomas Skalton, am I to assume you are Lord Willem?" "I am he, and greetings to you General, I have heard much about your exploits." After a brief exchange of pleasantries and with the introductions over, the General, lead both groups through the new city gates and up the main street towards the keep.

Lord Willem, as a special foreign dignitary was afforded the luxury of being given one of the rooms on the top floor with the royals. He had barely walked through the door, when Caldar knocked on the door, and dragged him in to meet his younger brother. After more introductions, they all sat in Lukens sitting room, sharing drinks and Lord Willem was told of the work, taking place throughout the city.

More importantly, though he was not sure how to approach the subject, was the young prince and his ability to wield great magical powers. Not wanting to push the subject on his hosts, he instead listened to the description of the battle that had taken place. Though the description of the deeds carried out by the prince were only briefly described.

In the Besemian capital, Bashek, Jared and Kaden had found an empty wooden abode on the outskirts of the city. Accessed by a narrow, rather smelly trash ridden alley, it was sufficiently out of the way. Inside the building were two rooms, one of which had the single entry point into the property. A small window was beside the door, which was handy to watch anybody approaching.

The building appeared to have been empty for some time, there were a few cobwebs and a large amount of dust had settled on the surfaces. There was a bed in the back room, though they did not use it, as the mattress was filthy and probably covered with fleas. In the main room, there was a built in cupboard and a small iron stove stood in one corner. After a rummage around, Jared had not found anything aside from a small kettle that would come in handy for boiling water.

After clearing a space on the dusty floorboards, Kaden lay down, using his pack as a pillow. Jared had earlier used the needle and cotton they had carried in their survival equipment to sew the deep wound on his upper arm. The concern was now not the bleeding, but the infection that appeared to developing around the cut. Jared had already cleaned it the best he knew, but it was now obvious to him Kaden was becoming feverish. This was something above his minimal medical skills.

He sat watching his friend sleeping, wondering how he could further help him. They were in an occupied city, crawling with Darekian troops, and he was not certain even if he found help, the person could be trusted not to turn them in. He had also noticed Besemians amongst the guards, these were his own people, and had obviously changed allegiances. It was this factor that concerned him most, spotting a Darekian was simple enough, spotting a Besemian who sympathised with the occupiers was near impossible.

He dampened another cloth and placed it on the forehead of the older man lying on the floor. Jared felt straight away that the cloth he removed was very warm, this he knew was a sign the fever was getting worse. It now appeared he would have no other option, if he did not find help, his friend would die.

Waiting until near darkness, Jared made sure Kaden was comfortable, and after dripping a few sips of water into his patient's mouth, he collected his kit together. He put on one of the swords they had captured, and one of the dark cloaks, hoping it would be enough to stop anyone challenging his movements. Checking through the window, peering down the now almost blackness of the alleyway he crept outside.

He was not sure of where to start looking, but had decided his best bet was to return onto the main street. Despite the cities gloom he managed to stumble his way through the jumble of rubbish at his feet, and was relieved when he found the thoroughfare. At least this had a few lamps burning, and made it a little easier to see where he was going. However, on the downside, it also meant other people could see him.

Walking slowly, taking long deliberate steps as he had seen the Darekians doing, he quickly noticed the few people around seemed keen enough to avoid him. He stopped outside a building, which appeared illuminated and looked up to see a sign swinging gently overhead. 'The Royal Crown' in large lettering and below the words was a picture depicting the same.

Shrugging his shoulders, he thought this was as good a place as any. He did not want to make a grand entrance through the front doors, so walked around the back, and found a smaller doorway. He carefully pushed it open, though made sure his dagger was at hand should it be needed. As he stepped inside, he could feel the warm air, and the smell of baking filled his nostrils. A middle-aged woman, wearing a white apron, jumped, startled at his sudden appearance.

He knew it would look odd if he suddenly retreated outside, and so closed the door behind him. The woman, noticing his attire, knelt to the floor in total subservience. "My apologies, you startled me, most use the front door. How may I be of service?" Jared could clearly sense the fear in her voice, but was not sure he could risk revealing his identity to her. "Are there others like me within the establishment?" he asked in a deep husky voice, in an attempt to sound authentic.