The Wounded Guardian (31 page)

‘But, your grace, one of them is the daughter of the Count of Sendric. Shouldn’t we let her go?’

Gello sniffed. ‘She shouldn’t have helped my cousin escape.’ He paused.
No matter what I do, Sendric will never be a friend of mine. I will have to have him killed at some point, so we might as well make it now
, he thought. ‘See that she is the first one dragged out of the cell,’ he ordered.

‘Yes, your grace.’

Gello watched him go and reflected he needed to issue an order regarding how he was to be addressed. Normally his officers just called him ‘sir’, but since taking over the throne room, he had seen them fall back to his Ducal title. But that was not enough. Besides, ‘your grace’ sounded too much like a bishop. No, from now on, he would be addressed as ‘sire’ or they would receive a flogging. He had just sent orders out to that effect, as well as an order for the garrison commander at Sendric to arrest the Count, when his war captains arrived.

Gello waited until all had a drink before outlining what had happened.

Instantly he felt the tension in the room increase. The faces did not give much away but he knew what they were thinking. These men had been part of his inner circle for more than a decade now. They had been promised much: gold, women, land and, not least of all, command of armies. Every one of them was guilty of treason by supporting Gello. None had seen the Dragon Sword in action but all had been raised on its legends.

‘We have prepared for this eventuality,’ he told them. ‘If she is to raise an army, then let it be peasants and townsfolk, armed with pitchforks and cudgels, that we can sweep away in a single charge.’

He looked around and saw the confidence returning.

‘Gentlemen, this is not a saga. Peasants cannot defeat heavy cavalry. We will crush all those who rise against me. Now, any questions?’

‘Your—sire.’ A scarred veteran by the name of Grissum spoke up at once. ‘My regiment will be almost useless for battle. I doubt if a hundred and fifty of them have made the loyalty pledge.’

Gello nodded. Grissum was in charge of the archers, one of the regiments traditionally loyal to the crown. Perhaps because it was filled with peasant scum, commoners who he refused to admit to his cavalry regiments.

‘Sire, my regiment is even worse. I doubt if I could muster a whole company of pledgers,’ a plump captain, another favourite of Gello’s called Beq, piped up.

‘That is a sacrifice we shall have to make. The archers and rangers will be useful when we take on the Tetrans and Berellians, so we shall not discard them. But we cannot risk them joining the Queen. They will be confined to barracks and watched closely. Any caught trying to run will have their hands chopped off.’

His senior captain, a thin, bearded man who had first taught Gello how to fight a war, coughed.

‘What is it, Feld?’ Gello asked immediately.

‘Sire, those regiments are the best ones to pursue the Queen through broken country. She would be mad to set up in a town, for we have garrisons at all
of them. She’ll make a base in a forest or in some hills. Perfect country for rangers but not for my heavy cavalry.’

‘My lights can do the job just as well,’ disagreed that captain, a muscular man with long red hair.

‘Indeed! This is why I have promoted a junior officer to the rank of war captain.’

There was a rumble around the table at this, as all looked and wondered who would be replaced. Beq and Grissum looked the most concerned.

Gello paused, enjoying the effect it had on them. ‘We shall need more war captains as we expand the army. But this will be a temporary position. If the man does well, then he will command the first of our new regiments. He is one of yours, Livett. A man called Havrick.’

All eyes swivelled to the captain of the light cavalry, who looked shocked. ‘Havrick? But, sire, I have other, much better officers than he…’

Gello shrugged. ‘They do not have his unique quality—he knows who the Queen’s Champion is, and will stop at nothing to destroy him.’

Livett sank back in his chair.

‘I have given him two of Feld’s companies, and three of Livett’s. He also has the authority to assume command of local garrisons. His job is to find the rebels and smash them before they grow too large. If he succeeds, he will join us around this table. If he fails, his body will rot in an unmarked grave somewhere.’

They nodded agreement.

‘Victory, that elusive mistress, has slipped away from us. But plans never survive the first contact with the enemy. We have reorganised ourselves and we will win, because we have the men, the weapons,
the training and the desire. Now, go and secure your regiments.’ He gave them a smile as they left, knowing he had to show confidence. He watched them go then went back to his maps. He had found if he thought about hurting others, he didn’t have to think about his own hurt.

Martil had hoped to impress the Queen with his cooking skills but was horribly aware the stew would probably be considered of poor quality by the palace dogs. Still, both Karia and Barrett had wolfed it down. He had to spend some time with Karia, as well. She was sulking after he had snapped at her and was visibly upset when he asked her to do something. Usually after a fight, his mind cleared and he could think things through and act reasonably, no matter how angry he had been before. For some reason, after using the Sword, that had not happened straightaway. Now, of course, he could see how he had upset her, but it took some apricots in honey, an apology and a particularly gooey saga about a singing princess who looked after seven elves in a forest before she was mollified.

By then, the Queen wanted what she called a council of war, although as it included both Conal and Karia, Martil could hardly compare it with some of the true councils of war he had attended. Karia sat on his lap and finished off the apricots while they talked.

‘The plan is simple. We must catch Gello off guard. Sendric is a market town, but, being so far north, has a small castle and an impressive wall to protect against goblin raids. Even better, the Count of Sendric is an old friend, as well as a bitter opponent of Gello. We can use his town as our base,
while the Dragon Sword brings in men from across the country. Once we have enough, we shall march back to the capital, gathering men along the way, and then either depose or destroy Gello,’ she declared.

Martil gulped. That was exactly the plan he had hoped would never be mentioned. Apart from his fears the Dragon Sword’s magic would not work for him, he had a fairly clear idea of what might happen if he took on Gello’s army with a few thousand poorly-armed farmers.

‘Your majesty, what will Gello be doing in the meanwhile?’ he asked carefully.

‘What do you mean?’

‘To bring enough men together will take weeks, possibly months. Your people have been at peace so long, it may take a long time to persuade enough men to join us. We would not want to leave without at least 20,000 men, and only then if we are confident we can collect that number again on the march to the city. Gello has 10,000 trained troops, including heavy cavalry. Unless we have a massive numerical advantage, we shall be slaughtered. And then we must manufacture enough weapons and armour for them. Even if we had a hundred blacksmiths working night and day, it would take months to give them just swords and shields. Then there is the issue of feeding such a host. Without good food, the men will not have the energy to fight or train. And we must have supplies enough to take with us, in case Gello invites us to besiege him. Getting an army together takes more than just waving around a sword and asking people to join you. Without arms, armour and food, we have nothing. While we are trying to do all that, what is
Gello going to do? He’s not going to sit in your palace, waiting for us to attack. He’s going to be up here with every man he has got, aiming to smash us before we can gather our strength. I’m sorry, your majesty, but it cannot be done so easily.’

Martil saw her face crease in disappointment as she absorbed the logic of his argument. Then she rallied herself.

‘What do you suggest then, Captain?’

‘We must start training a small company. Once they are ready, they go into hiding and we move on to another town to do the same thing again. Then, when we rise up, it will be in so many places that Gello will be unable to concentrate his men. Meanwhile, we must not give Gello the chance to bring us to battle.’

‘And how long will all that take?’ Barrett asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Martil admitted, ‘but it will work. It did for us in the Ralloran Wars. Trying to raise a massive army and then take on Gello too soon will just result in slaughter.’

‘But what if the Sword can persuade Gello’s men to fight for us?’ Barrett countered.

The Queen held up a hand. ‘I can tell you now, not enough will come over just by raising the Sword. Just seeing Gello’s men in action around the palace and in the capital tells me he has been choosing men who believe in his dreams of conquest and blood. And I learned he is also making his soldiers sign on their honour to obey him. Most will not break those oaths, no matter how strong the call of the Sword. Captain Martil is right.’

Barrett looked furious, but she placed a hand on his arm.

‘Listen to me. My counsellors—the ones I
inherited from my father—were all nobles. Chief among them, as commander of the army, was Duke Gello. They all left my service for Gello’s, one by one, as he wooed them over, or left the city, like Count Sendric, because they feared for their lives if they stayed. You are my new counsellors. I ask you to give me the benefit of your experience, and do not fear my reaction.’

She looked around the table. ‘That goes for you as well, bandit. I would appreciate your opinion.’

Conal cleared his throat. ‘Well, Martil’s plan seems sensible. We have to operate in secret, work from the shadows, so he does not know what our true strength is. Bandits ambush, surprise and drift away when threatened. That works, otherwise I would not be here to tell you about it.’

The Queen smiled. ‘Reluctant as I am to endorse a bandit’s viewpoint, it makes sense. Tomorrow we go to see Count Sendric. He can supply us with men, weapons, food and money. Now, though, I want to find out how Martil came to get the Sword and find Barrett.’

So Martil told how he had come north after leaving the Ralloran army, glossing over the bit about ordering the destruction of Bellic and the nightmares it had given him. Talking about Karia seemed far easier, as he explained about Father Nott telling them to go towards Tetril.

The Queen smiled at that. ‘You must admit, it does seem fortuitous. You find Karia and take her to her uncle, who just happens to have been killed while regaining the Dragon Sword. The priest must have seen something.’

Martil grudgingly agreed. ‘I’d also like to talk to him about that.’

‘It is intriguing. He entrusts his granddaughter to a warrior with a reputation such as yours—he must have seen something in you…’

Martil felt his heart jump a little when she said she was intrigued by him, and caught sight of Barrett staring at him coldly.
The wizard obviously did not enjoy hearing that compliment
, Martil thought smugly. So he finished the tale of how he had met Barrett and came to rescue the Queen. Then it was Conal’s turn. The Queen was particularly interested in hearing about how he had decided to join Martil.

‘How did you feel?’ she asked.

Conal thought about that one. ‘Your majesty, I would be delighted to tell you I felt a golden glow and the desire to do good and care for small animals but there was nothing like that. My old life came to an end with Danir’s death and I was looking for a new direction anyway. Although, admittedly, I do want a royal pardon and maybe the chance to be what I once was, a militia sergeant.’

‘Zorva’s balls! You were a militia shit-slinger?’ Karia gasped.

The Queen was about to snap at her when Martil signalled furiously behind Karia’s back. ‘It’s a long story,’ was all he said aloud, ‘but I think perhaps we should be careful what we say around Karia. That is my fault.’

‘I was once in the militia, princess,’ Conal admitted. ‘Can you forgive me for that?’

Karia thought about it for a moment. ‘They can’t be all bad then,’ she agreed.

‘What do you think, Barrett?’ the Queen asked. ‘About the bandit, not about the girl’s strange obsession with the militia.’

‘Could go either way, your majesty. The Sword
may have worked on him and he did not realise it. Or it could have been a whim of his and he does not count because he is a bandit.’

‘I have done some dark deeds, your majesty,’ Conal admitted.

Merren rubbed her eyes. Being called ‘your majesty’ when they were sitting around a rough wooden table in a hut in the woods seemed ridiculous. The title seemed almost obscene, given all that had happened.

‘I think we can forget about my title when it is just we few,’ she suggested. ‘You may use my name.’

There was a short silence at this.

‘What do you know about the Sword—Merren,’ Martil said, eager to test out how her name sounded. ‘How do you know if it is working for you?’

‘I could not say, I am afraid. My father rarely spoke of it to me, probably thinking that as I could never draw it, I would never need to know. Just as he insisted I would never need to know anything about warfare, as my cousin Gello would be looking after the army,’ she finished bitterly. ‘Barrett, did you find anything in your library?’

Barrett nodded. ‘We did find a book about the Dragon Sword, which claimed that you could tell when its magic was working from the dragon on the hilt.’

‘Then let us see it,’ Merren requested.

Feeling slightly foolish, Martil produced the Sword and they all peered at the dragon carving.

‘I can’t tell anything,’ Karia declared.

Merren sighed. ‘We shall have to keep watching it, to see if there is any change. After all, it is one of the most pure forms of magic.’

‘Can I try it?’ Karia asked immediately, perking up at the thought of magic. Martil had explained
they wanted to talk but to her it all sounded very boring. Battles and sieges—yawn! She wanted to hear about elves and dragons. Or at least some dolls.