Bloodstone - Power of Youth (Book 3) (21 page)

She reached her tent and went inside. Out of everyone’s view, she collapsed on her cot without taking off armor or weapons. She noticed that a crossbow bolt decorated her shoulder plate. Another few inches and she would be wounded, again. Another few minutes on the cot and she could get up… 

“Princess General,” a voice said loudly from outside her tent.

Restella blinked herself awake and rose to a sitting position. Her body ached as she began to remove her armor. Every muscle in her arms cried out for relief. She smiled. There would be none coming as she had learned to enjoy the pain after a fight well won.

She walked over to her wash stand and threw water on her face and hair. She pushed her wet locks back and called out. “I am ready. Come in.”

“We were worried, General. You were silent in your tent for three hours.”

Restella smiled and pursed her lips. “The battle consumed my strength. I slept. It isn’t the first time.”

Captain Montford nodded. “It isn’t for any of us. You fought bravely, as usual.”

She accepted the compliment and threw it back at her chief of staff. “As did you. As did us all. Any word on casualties? Any birds from the other commands?”

“We lost seventy men with one-hundred ninety two men requiring healer attention. No mages were lost, but neither side employed any magic. The Oringians sacrificed six hundred and twelve that we could count. Eleven casualties left behind. They killed most of their wounded as they withdrew.”

Restella sat back down. Nearly eight hundred Bessethians lost. Lord Daryaku continued to let Bessethian kill itself as he sat unharmed far, far away. Restella yearned to meet him on the battlefield and give him a taste of her sword’s steel, not a touch of her Moonstone.

“Birds?”

“Yes. Montford’s forces engaged maybe five hundred men. It appeared to be a flanking move. Nothing from Sumbard’s command. I assume they haven’t engaged the latest wave of Oringians. It looks like Lotto Mistad correctly identified the Oringian trap.”

Restella resented Lotto’s intervention, but she had to admit, he had saved her from disaster. Her feelings for the man waxed and waned since the link. She didn’t care if he knew it or not, but she did care that his affection for the Princess Sallia leaked out from time to time during their communications and the emotions at odd times. But then she thought kindly of her. Restella couldn’t detect any mutual affection through the link. The passions in Happly had been spent a few weeks after they had rescued her father.

“How many Oringian dead altogether now?”

“More than seven thousand. We estimate we’ve destroyed of 25% of their army.”

The constant battles over the last two weeks had even slaked Restella’s thirst for the enemy’s blood. “We will collect our forces and wheel towards Port Scarlet on the southeastern border with Learsea and then we’ll head back west to Valetan. It looks like Duke Histron is preparing to enter Learsea and we don’t want the Oringians to join them do we?”

Montford smiled. “Indeed we don’t. I would guess your latest proposal to defend Learsea’s northern border has succeeded?”

“Captain, it’s not a matter of success. I do what needs to be done to protect Valetan and then we help our allies. Think of a way to employ pickets along Oringia’s southern border and the same along the border with Valetan. It’s mid-summer and Histron’s due to make a move.”

“Yes, ma’am. Are you hungry, General?”

Restella nodded. Now that he mentioned it, she could eat a horse. No, she chided herself. Her horse lay on the battlefield and she didn’t think she could choke down horsemeat like the rankers would be doing tonight and for days to come.

“Fowl? Rabbit? Anything but horse.” Restella felt her task had been completed here. It was time to find something else to do.

~

Sallia eyed Lotto pacing in her small office as she entered. She’d been given it at the Border Keep at Everwet village. She had requested to join the alliance headquarters and had already walked the streets of the village, erasing any latent demons that her experience might come to life. None appeared and for that, Sallia felt relieved.

Lotto had just communicated with Restella and he wasn’t particularly pleased. He stopped and turned to her. “They were tested and they turned back the Oringians with fewer casualties than they suffered just going toe to toe with them. Restella’s defensive formations have held in Oringia and they took Port Scarlet. The Learsean garrison on the other side of the estuary has sent sufficient men to hold the port along with a number of Learsean warships. ”

“That’s good news, right? Why do you look so glum?”

“Restella is heading to Beckondale and then south to us. She’s given her command over to Captain, or should I say Captain-General Montford.”

“Why don’t you invite Mander Hart to join her? Has Chika been successful in teaching you how to teleport?”

Lotto shook his head. “It’s not a matter of power, but there’s something else that I do that makes every attempt an adventure. I have been strongly advised to practice much more or give up trying. You don’t mind if I leave?”

“We are still preparing for battle. Go to Beckondale and see your friend Kenyr when you bring back Mander Hart. You’ll need another person to leaven Restella’s emotions.”

“You understand me so well, Sallia. I’ve needed someone to talk things over about her. I’m not sure I’m ready to be with her again.”

Sallia squinted her eyes and looked out the window, not focusing on anything. “Why don’t we split the Valetan forces and treat her like Prince Peeron.”

“She won’t stand for a token force like the Prince has.”

“It doesn’t matter if she commands most of the Valetan forces or all of them, does it? Won’t Mander be involved in any final decisions? We just put her in the field. From what you describe, she’d prefer that anyway.”

Lotto brightened. Trust Sallia to come up with the best solution. That’s why he sought her out. “I will do it. I need a break from all the tension.” He took Sallia’s hand and kissed it. He dared not go any further. “I will make preparations.”

Sallia smiled. “You do that, Lotto.” She poked her head out of her little office and watched him walk down the dark corridor of the small keep.

Sallia rubbed her hand. Lotto was such a nice person. Honorable, forthright, and tortured. Restella’s ardor cooled into an even acceptance of their relationship. Lotto had described how awful she was before they linked. Sallia felt badly. He didn’t need the distraction. She had lumped him into the same category as Restella and perhaps herself. Young people thrust into creating battle strategies and political strategies before experience had tempered them.

Anchor and the somewhat older Shiro had seemed to jump out of that mold into something else. Lotto had good ideas and she could accept his advice, but Anchor painted with broad strokes. He acted as if he had experience, but added some magic to his proposals. She laughed at the thought. Anchor was as bereft of talent as she was. Shiro had told her so.

Her thoughts turned back to suggesting the mysterious Mander Hart. He had visited Foxhome a number of times, but Sallia had never encountered him. Lotto had told her such marvelous tales about the man. Duke Jellas verified that most of them were true.

She welcomed another experienced leader to add to the alliance’s council and reduce the irritation of Prince Peeron. At times she felt the itch to proceed, but she knew Lessa still hadn’t returned from Prola with his additional forces. He would be traveling through Histo to make sure there wouldn’t be any mischief from that direction.

She sat down on the hard chair that she drew close to the well-worn table that served as her desk. She had few papers. Perhaps she’d write down some questions for Anchor. She’d promised him that she would and never did. She smiled. If Lotto had time to go to Beckondale, she had time to write a letter to Anchor. Maybe his spirits needed lifting.

~~~

Chapter Twenty-Two

~

“M
arshal, the conscripts are useless,”
Leef said.

Anchor sat at a long table made of two stout doors held up with wooden boxes. They would serve. The forces of the Red Kingdom had finally decided to muster in the Northeast and it was already mid-summer. The farmers from the surrounding lands had never participated in battle. There were always negative consequences for peaceful kingdoms in time of war.

King Billeas always had a border conflict going on one time or another among his dukes and barons that he had to mediate. Now Anchor knew why the late king always drew local men. He trained them in the basics. Now that training would be used against the very forces assembling to save them from Histron’s iron rule.

It didn’t take many refugees from the Red Kingdom, finding their way over the mountains and into Learsea, to learn of the crippling taxes and brutal tax collectors all but extorting money and supplies from the populace without giving anything in return. How did Sally’s Corner’s fare? It seemed like ages ago and that part of the world was merely a pleasant dream.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts. “Break them down into smaller units. Don’t teach them to become experienced soldiers. Teach them how to fight to protect themselves first. If they can do that, they will stall the enemy. Then you can bring them together to learn how to defend and attack as units. Our expectations just might be too high.”

“Never thought of that before, Anchor. Where do you come up with these ideas?”

Sometimes Anchor wish he knew. “Common sense, Leef. I just let my mind relax and it gives me a solution. Common sense.”

“Uncommon sense, if you ask me.”

“No,” Anchor said. Anyone could have adjusted the training activities.

“I’ll spread the word.”

“Do that,” Anchor said. He glanced at the maps before him. They had left most of the experienced soldiers at the fortifications that now lined ten day’s march. Still, less than halfway from Learsea to the border. Another few keeps and he could begin to unfold his layered traps. He needed more trained soldiers. Perhaps he made a mistake, letting Willom’s General take half of the army to the south.

Shiro walked in. “I suppose Leef told you about the farmers? He’s too hard on them. We know about farmers,” Shiro said, shaking his head.

“How are your people doing on melting the keeps?”

The Ropponi grinned. “A mix of five sorcerers of various strengths can reduce the forts to a pile of dirt in less than two hours.”

Anchor pursed his lips. “And ten wizards?”

“Forty minutes, maybe less.” Shiro’s grin widened even further. “Ask me what twenty will do.”

Anchor had to smile at Shiro’s beaming face. “What will twenty do?”

“Ten minutes. We tested it this morning. I made them build a new one from the pile. They are still at it. That is what they get for doing such a good job.”

“At least something’s going right, my Ropponi friend. I feel I’m missing an element of our strategy. My goal is that once Histron sets foot in Learsea, he’ll regret it.”

Shiro furrowed his brow for a second. “What if he doesn’t?”

“Doesn’t what?”

“Head east? What if he assembles his forces and leads his army west towards Gensler. He’ll roll up all of Gensler’s—”

“Border keeps and walk all over South Gensler. They won’t have a strategy for that. How about a little visit to Chika after you’ve told me how you’d handle training the farmers?” Anchor said. Shiro to Anchor was like Anchor to Leef. Shiro’s mind was constantly in motion, just as his own. He didn’t know what he’d do without the Ropponi. They were a very good combination as well as good friends.

~

Anchor looked forward to seeing Sallia again. He held a reply to the letter she had sent on Shiro’s last visit to Chika. After weeks with no correspondence, she finally sent him questions about various things. He wondered why she asked him about farming and how villages were organized. He didn’t doubt that she would need to know such things. It gave him little opportunity to test her feelings for him, but he gladly answered. Presenting the answers in writing would give her the chance to use his answers for reference. Shiro knew enough about farming to round out his response with enough information to Sallia to be useful. His practical experience farming himself was restricted to giving advice to Willow’s son, Hal, at his holding outside of Sally’s Corners.

He had to laugh. Unca and Anchor both didn’t think their advice to be earth-shattering, but he always prided himself on using common sense. He chuckled again as he thought of his conversation with Leef. Common sense. Not royal sense. He sighed. She would outgrow his advice at some point, he feared. Especially with all of the training she had rubbing shoulders with Lotto, Duke Jellas, Lessa and now Mander Hart.

Rubbing shoulders. He smiled. Chika would have something to say about that. She and Shiro would be rubbing shoulders tonight. A bout of melancholy overtook him as he waited for Shiro.

Shiro poked his head into his tent. “Ready?”

Anchor looked around to see if there might be something else to bring, but he didn’t see anything. He patted his chest, feeling the letter.

Shiro walked through the tent door and took his hand.

Anchor blinked and he stood on the main street of Everwet, looking at the inn where had fought for Sallia. He walked through the open doors and found the innkeeper.

“A quick ale for me and some wine for my friend.”

“Anchor? Where have you been? The alliance forces have taken over Everwet. Princess Sallia is here. Did you know she was the princess of the Red Kingdom? Is your friend from Roppon? Where are your horses? My son will take care of them.”

Anchor laughed and put up his hands to stop the innkeeper. “I’ll answer your questions one at a time. Remember the two colonels that took me away? I went to South Keep on the eastern edge of Gensler. Took command of the keep and now I’m with Shiro’s forces,” he nodded towards the Ropponi, “in Learsea. I got here by magical means and decided to whet my whistle before I go to the border keep and report.” He took a deep draft of the inn’s ale. It tasted just as good as he remembered when recuperating from his shoulder wound. At least that had healed perfectly, although, at the time, he never thought it would.

“Report, eh? We’ve had soldiers moving though Everwet ever since you left. They say there’s more to come.”

“I hope so,” Anchor said. He slapped Shiro’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Drink up, my friend. It’s time to hobnob with the rich and noble.”

The walk to the keep took more than a few minutes. Shiro asked if Anchor wanted to transport from the inn to the keep, but Anchor wanted to walk and think of his approach to Shiro’s posited problem.

After a brief encounter with the guards keeping village riff raff from the keep, Anchor suggested that Shiro transport himself a few paces past the gate. It was enough to let him through. He let Shiro seek out Chika. Anchor strolled through grounds filled with Gensleran soldiers.

He walked into the keep. The building was a little smaller than South Keep, but the layout seemed identical. He walked along a corridor lined with office doors on one side.

“Anchor?” Sallia’s voice. It took his breath away. Anchor shook his head. It just wasn’t right thinking of Sallia that way.

“Princess?” He took a few steps backward and saw her silhouetted against the window. Bright light made him squint as his eyes adjusted from the dark corridor. “You are here?”

She laughed. “Evidently, I am. Have you something for me?”

My heart? Anchor thought and then immediately stifled the thought. He took the letter from within his tunic. “Your answers, your highness. I hope they aren’t too simple for your needs.”

She smiled. “You don’t know how simple my needs are.” She set the letter down on the windowsill without opening it. “What brings you to Everwet? We met here.”

Anchor returned her smile. “Indeed. Shiro and I had a drink at the inn before we arrived at the keep.”

“That’s a long walk for a drink.”

Anchor shrugged. “We transported from Learsea to the inn and then walked here. Not so far one way.”

“Always a strategist.”

“I had a notion that Histron might not choose to invade Learsea and turn left towards southern Gensler instead. I wanted to let the council know.”

“You are part of the council.”

Anchor shook his head. “Not really. I’m out preparing defenses for Learsea, but I’m glad you feel I’m part of the leadership.”

“You are. Have you ever met Mander Hart?”

Unca had, but Anchor hadn’t. “He is here in Gensler?”

Sallia nodded with some excitement. “We need his mind on our council, since you are out preparing defenses for Learsea.” She mimicked Anchor’s voice. Where did this pleasant nature come from? Certainly not from the haughty princess he pulled from Foxhome. “Come, I’ll take you to him.”

Anchor hadn’t talked to Mander Hart since this whole mess had begun. He remembered a conversation he had with the man some years ago, when he arrived unannounced at Foxhome with suspicions of Daryaku’s intentions towards Besseth. Oh, how he’d been right.

She pushed a door open to a map room, much smaller than the one in South Keep. The windows faced north onto river rapids that produced the mist that gave Everwet its name. Mander Hart turned around and looked at him blankly. He didn’t recognize a very young Unca. When Unca looked as young as he did now, Mander Hart was being bounced on his father’s knee.

“May I present Marshal Anchor? This is Mander Hart of Valetan,” Sallia said.

Mander Hart took Anchor’s hand. “It’s quite an honor to meet you, introduced by such an exalted personage.” He winked at Sallia and sized up Anchor. Mander never let royalty of any kind intimidate him.

“And an honor to meet you. Lotto has talked a bit about you,” Anchor said, quite lamely.

“Am I not a legend in Foxhome?” Mander played at being shocked, placing an open hand on this chest.

Anchor smiled. Mander gave Anchor an opening. “Where I live,” at my holding near Sally’s Corners, he thought, “you are unknown. I am sorry. But that means nothing. Where I come from, they don’t even recognize me if I stroll into town.”

“But you do look familiar.” Mander put his hand to his chin. “Well, why are you here? Shouldn’t you be pacing the border wilds of Learsea?”

“Our forces guard a long swath of the pathway to Learsea’s capital and that is why I’m here.”

Duke Jellas walked into the room accompanied by Lotto and Princess Restella. Anchor didn’t miss the quick glare at Sallia by Restella.

“Anchor, or should I say Marshal Anchor?”

“Anchor works as well as any.”  Anchor had to grip the pommel of his sword. He would have to keep from rising to the repartee of the nobility. He enjoyed the bantering and missed it, but a typical Unca performance would expose him. “Do you have the council here?”

“I’ll send a guard for Prince Peeron. Lessa is on his way to us from Prola via Histo.”

“A little pacification work?” Anchor said, knowing the answer.

“Indeed.”

The prince entered the room. Anchor gave him a deeper bow than the man deserved. “Prince.”

“Ah. I hear my father has named you Marshal. How condescending of him.”

Duke Jellas cleared his throat as he usually did to get attention. “Anchor, we are assembled.”

Anchor shuffled the maps on the table and pulled one out that showed the southern border of Gensler.

“Shiro shared the thought that Histron might be using his mustering of forces at the Learsea border as a feint and head along the border keeps,” Anchor ran his finger along the border poking it at the little crenelated symbols that stood for a fort. “I wouldn’t call it a certainty by any means, but it is an option for him that we need to prepare for. He could attack here, here and here.” Anchor poked the map and paused to let his words sink in. “He likely knows you are gathered in Everwet. I would if I were he.” He noticed Mander Hart nodding. “You don’t have anything currently in the way of him coming north along the southern road and attacking Everwet from the southeast.”