Bloodstone - Power of Youth (Book 3) (25 page)

“There is more damage deeper. The skin is joined, but the body has to do it’s work,” Shiro said. “Your spoils.” He laid the sword of his opponent on his bed. “It is better than this.” Shiro held up his old sword. “The edge is one of a layer of strange wards on the blade. I can remove them if you like.”

“No. I’ll assume that any enchantment is better than none,” Anchor said. “But that’s an extremely sharp blade.” He rubbed the top of his head. “I’ll have to cut the rest of my hair down to size.”

“More military,” Chika said, distastefully. “I liked it before the man cut it.”

Sallia felt the top of his head. “Think of it as a battle wound. I remember Unca had dyed his hair and had to cut most of it off to get the black out.”

Anchor put his hand on Sallia’s. “I won’t let it grow longer until this war is won.” He nodded sharply that his decision was final.

“Now. What do we do?”

Shiro folded his arms. “You had called for me. Did you need rescuing?”

“Nearly,” Anchor said. “I want you to find out who these men are. Half said they would fight for Sallia, half wouldn’t. I’d like to ask you to use the Sunstone to separate them. Those that are truly loyal can be welcomed into our army.  Those that aren’t will remain prisoners.”

“You can kill them.” Chika said.

Anchor shook his head. “I have no desire to become as ruthless as Duke Histron. That’s not to say the prisoners will be treated as guests.”

“Right,” Sallia said, her face red with embarrassment. “Now that I’ve helped you sufficiently, I think I have overstayed my welcome.”

She made to leave the tent, but Anchor grabbed her wrist. “Forgive me for grabbing, but I’d like you to talk to those loyal men. You not only need an army, but you need the Red Kingdom to support you and they are your start. It’s something that you can do, that no other can, in this war.”

~

Shiro labored for three days interviewing all of the men and Sallia had sat in on them all. Fifty of the men, mostly officers of some sort or another were from Dakkor. Shiro had kept the interviewed men separated after he talked to them. Twenty of them pledged fealty to Princess Sallia to escape the horrors of Dakkor. Two thirds of the rest recognized Sallia as their true monarch. Most of the others were from Histron’s duchy or mercenaries, who had probably come from Happly.

Sallia sat back on a camp chair, much more comfortable than the one in her Everwet office. The last prisoner had been talked to. She couldn’t believe the men’s stories of Histron’s rule. She likened his rule to a criminal made king. He didn’t disappoint her. Some of the men admitted to her that Anchor’s defeat of the Serytar surprised them and helped them make up their minds. They would gladly follow such a man into battle.

Anchor’s prowess with a sword astounded her. His throttling of Prince Peeron had been a sparring match, but this was a fight to the death. He still carried her token. She had seen it wrapped around his uninjured arm when the healer removed his blood-stained shirt. Such a champion for the Red Kingdom. He sacrificed his mind and body for her Kingdom.

Her thoughts turned to the soldiers’ stories. Each one told her a little bit about his life. What he did back home. What kind of family he had. What he didn’t like about Histron’s changes. Anchor had given her another gift. Through these interviews, she knew her subjects better than she had ever imagined. Anchor was so angry that she had talked Chika into bringing her to the camp, but Sallia didn’t regret it. He could be angry all he wanted, but even though her visit had been pure impulse, she had learned more about the war than all the time she’s spent in Everwet. Talking about this strategy or that paled to speaking to these abused men.

Her discussions with the Serytarans were likewise illuminating. Shiro would know more about them than she did, but it seemed that Histron used Daryaku’s methods as his guide. Daryaku had directed all of the evil inflicted on Besseth. Somehow they would have to take the fight to him. The big Serytar that Anchor killed had been a high ranking officer who changed clothes with another. Only he carried an enchanted sword.

Chika ducked her head underneath the awning that served to protect her interviews from the sun. “We must leave immediately, Princess. The army headed to Oringia turned around and is crossing the mountains to the north as the other part of the army that stopped at the Gensler border is doing the same in the south. The troops need to redeploy immediately. Anchor sends his regrets.” Chika’s eyes brightened. She didn’t continue to talk and Sallia was glad of it. The Ropponi woman finally learned to curb her tongue when thinking of inappropriate comments, but her eyes still glistened with an undoubtedly perverse glee when she produced them in her mind.

“Very well. I brought nothing, so I guess we can leave immediately. I’ll be happy to take a bath when I return. I must stink.”

Chika laughed. “Me, too.”

Sallia wanted to thank Anchor more appropriately, but that would have to wait. She took Chika’s hand and closed her eyes. She could feel the dampness of Everwet’s air when she opened them.

~

“Ha!” Lotto said as he entered the common room of Everwet’s keep. “Restella rode all the way out to the border and Histron’s army had turned back without telling the Oringians of their change in plans. The Oringians had massed, expecting reinforcements and Valetan soldiers slaughtered them. Thousands killed. General Montford gave no quarter and Restella encouraged it. I doubt Oringia will trouble anyone for some time.”

Prince Peeron pinched his face in distaste. “All of that blood.”

He didn’t fool Sallia. If confronted with an army in retreat, he’d be leading the van with his sword cutting down every peasant holding a pike or even unarmed, if they wore the enemies’ colors.

“One less army to worry about. But Anchor now has two armies heading his way,” she said.

Harvest time was about on them and she hoped that all of the belligerents would halt their fighting to bring in the ripening grain, not to mention the straw for their animals. It had happened often enough in history, but she didn’t know what kind of strings Daryaku pulled.

Mander Hart sauntered into the room and slowly descended into a chair at the table. He had arrived late for dinner and his meal would lack options now. Sallia wished she could do something to help the man’s back.

“Have you ever thought to seek out a Red Rose healer?”

Mander smiled. “Whatever for?” He knew, but he liked to play games. The man always liked to play games.

“Try one. You might be surprised,” Sallia said.

“My dear Princess. I’m a married man!” He laughed as he pulled out a chunk of bread from a half-eaten loaf and dipped into plate of sauce now that the duck that swam in it had been eaten.

His repartee didn’t compare with Chika’s, but then no one else’s did. Sallia just smiled with a blushing face along with the rest. Mander winked at her and nodded.

“What do we hear from our various fronts?”

Lotto gave him his news.

“Lessa has been busy south of Prola. He has captured three of your western ports, my dear Princess,” Mander said poking around the table for more scraps. “He has turned away a number of Dakkoran ships and fought more than a few who tried to come to land anyway. We should have sent a Red Rose who could transport along with him. Now we just have birds. I wish I had one in my hands right now.” His eyes sparkled.

Sallia grinned. “A Red Rose or a bird?”  Chika was a bad influence.

“Does it matter?” Mander Hart’s eyes sparkled with good humor. “Oh, I am married. You got me again, Princess.”

~~~

Chapter Twenty-Four

~

A
nchor ran his fingers through his short-cropped hair.
His haircut had been emulated through his army and now men doffed their helmets or their caps to show their shorn locks. The thought gave him a tiny bit of relief as he gazed at the maps.

He couldn’t stop the northern army from flowing over the mountains and now the entire army of Histron marched towards Learsea. At least he had staunched the flow of troops into Learsea from the southern flank. Histron evidently had saved his strongest wizards for this plunge into King Willom’s country. A rational commander wouldn’t sustain the constant losses that Anchor’s army dealt and continue to march. Why? He needed to visit King Willom for some inspiration.

Shiro and he materialized in a gale. Anchor caught Shiro’s arm as a gust of wind nearly blew the Ropponi down. They struggled to the castle doors and let guards covered in oiled cloth slickers open the door for them.

Anchor would make another filthy entrance, this time the dust and dirt of the road would mingle with the rainwater to coat the corridor with spots of freshly-made mud. Shiro just grinned as he shook out his cloak, splattering Anchor.

“Perhaps, he’ll send us back,” Shiro said. “You are a mess.”

Anchor smiled. “As are you.”

A guard walked up with towels. “Please do your best to clean up.”

Feeling much better with at least a clean feeling face, Anchor and Shiro were shown into the king’s map room. The wind must be howling and the rain pattered on the thick glass, but Anchor barely heard the weather. Willom had yet to arrive.

“You can’t even see the sea,” Shiro said looking down where the ocean should have been.

“No one would dare sail on a day like today.”

Shiro nodded. “I wouldn’t wish such a day on my worst enemy.”

Anchor raised his eyebrows. “And who is your worst enemy?”

“Not on Roppon?”

Anchor nodded.

“The Emperor of Dakkor, Daryaku,” Shiro said.

“Right.”

The king entered, walking gingerly, and Anchor turned towards the king and bowed.

“To what do I owe this audience?”

“It is much nicer in the middle of Learsea, your majesty,” Shiro said.

“I hope you didn’t come all the way here to give me your views on the weather.”

Anchor looked out at the greenish gray scene on the other side of Willom’s windows. The angry seas prompted something that had been bothering him for some time to fall into place in his mind. “I think I know why Histron is so bent on reaching Learsea.”

Shiro’s mouth dropped open along with the king’s.

“Something about this whole campaign has been bothering me. I originally thought that Histron wanted Learsea. He still does, but he wants your ports, especially Learsea, your capital. It’s the closest decent one to Ayrtan.”

Willom shrugged. “What’s in Ayrtan?”

“Perhaps Daryaku’s main force. It’s a much easier voyage than from Zarron to western Besseth. That will give the Dark Lord two fronts. He must know by now that Oringia was destroyed and Port Scarlet is in your hands, your Majesty. Lessa has closed off the western ports, but then I think that Daryaku had to have assumed that those might fall. Once Histron’s army takes over Learsea, the Dakkorans can land, and then spread westward retaking all that they lost. But if they attack from the east, Daryaku’s greatest wizards, himself included, will join him.”

“And he can’t do that with my ships defending the coastline,” Willom said, nodding in agreement.

“He can’t.” Anchor said looking at the rivulets of rain run down the windows.

“You just thought of this?”

“It dawned on my from a comment that Shiro made. He decided to graciously let me know as soon as we arrived.” Anchor smiled at Shiro. “A day for your worst enemy in a ship. It all came together. Thank you, Shiro. You have once again saved our great continent. I feel much better.” Anchor thrust out his arms and took a cleansing breath. He heard a few drops splat on the king’s clean stone floor. “Excuse me. We have been spreading the mud of happiness around your fair castle.”

Willom squinted at Anchor. “You still remind me of someone I know. Do you have any wizard relations?”

“I haven’t a drop of power, do I Shiro?”

“He has none, your majesty.”

The king shook his head. “It will come. It will come. Now, I have guests for dinner, but it’s been awhile since your last visit. I order you both to spend the night. I’ll set you up in guest rooms and have dinner brought to you. Once I’ve taken care of my guests, we can open up some fine wine and talk about this further.” Willom winked at them and left.

The skies seemed to part and a few feeble threads of sunlight lit up the map room.

“What do you say to a tour of Learsea’s docks, Shiro? I don’t feel like being cooped up in a room, however nice, until King Willom’s dinner is over.”

~

The downpour had ended, but lingering rain showers still pelted Shiro and Anchor as they walked down to the docks. Shiro breathed in the odors of dead fish, salt water and rot of all kinds. He couldn’t detect any difference in the smells from what he remembered of Ropponi docks. The view brought back memories of his journeys from his farm on the North Isle to the south and back again. His eyes went to the ships, looking for a Ropponi-style vessel. He saw horizontal sail stays poking out at the end of a slip a few docks over.

“Look, a Ropponi ship,” Shiro said. “I’d like to know what is happening on my homeland.”

Anchor peered at Shiro. “I thought you said Ropponi politics never change?”

Shiro shrugged. “Overall, no, but I’m still interested in the details.”

Anchor clapped him on the shoulder. ‘I think I understand. Could that ship be your friend’s?”

Shiro brightened at the thought. “He’s one of the few that will call on Besseth ports, so I’m hoping.” Shiro did more than hope. He thought how the war thinned out the Red Rose. He wished he could recruit more sorcerers and Mistokko might know how the White Rose fared in the Northern Isle.

His hopes increased the closer they got to the ship. He felt a large drop of water land on him prompting to look at the darkening sky. “Let’s hope we can get some shelter on the ship,” he said as he picked up the pace.

He saw the unmistakable form of Captain Mistokko standing on the dock, supervising the delivery of cargo from the ship. “Mistokko!”

He caught the captain walking back up the gangway with Anchor a few paces behind. “Shiro? Is that you? What are you doing in Learsea?”

“I have much to tell you.” Shiro glanced up at the darkening sky. “Can we take shelter from what’s coming in your cabin?”

“A Bessethian friend, eh? He looks like a warrior.”

Shiro laughed. “He should. He’s King Willom’s war leader.” He looked at Anchor who could only smile as the two spoke in Ropponi.

Mistokko’s eyebrows rose. “I’d like to hear that tale.”

Shiro saw a curtain of rain heading their way. “I can’t think of a better time.”

“Sailor’s don’t melt,” Mistokko said as a booming peal of thunder echoed from the buildings at the wharf. “But a lightning hit is a different matter. He called his men to shelter. “This looks like it will blow over in a bit. Come on down below.”

Soon the three men sat at Mistokko’s table in his quarters, each of them held a cup of heated wine. Mistokko spoke in Bessethian. “I’m sorry to hear that Shinku didn’t last more than a few weeks,” Mistokko said, raising his cup. “To Shinku, may he find his ancestors and discover peace.”

“May he discover peace,” Shiro said. The sky lightened up as Shiro finished his story.

Anchor nudged him. “We have to go back to the palace. The sun will soon set.”

“Come back tomorrow. If it’s raining, you can teleport!” Mistokko said with a laugh.

“I just might do that,” Shiro said in Ropponi.

~

A guard picked up Anchor at his room, having already done the same with Shiro. The king had delivered new clothes and it felt good to have something clean and dry to wear. Anchor pulled Shiro back a bit as they followed the guard.

“Have you thought any more about going back to Roppon?” Anchor said.

Shiro laughed. “We only talked about what’s happened, not what will be. Let’s meet with him again after we talk to the king.”

“Tonight?”

Shiro nodded.

“Good. I want to get back to the troops. If the King is up to it, I’d rather get back.”

“As do I,” Shiro said.

The guard showed him to the king’s study.

Willom stood in front of a fire with a blanket around his shoulders. “It gets chilly after a rain, even in the summer,” he said. “Help yourself,” He pointed towards a sideboard with a number of wine decanters. “So why are you seeking my help rather than just solving my problems? Do you still think Lord Daryaku will attack from the east?”

“Not if he can’t hold your ports, your highness. This man works on multiple levels and fronts. I don’t think he is relying solely on Duke Histron to take over Besseth. Lessa and Valetan control the western ports, so if Histron falls, what would you do?”

“Why is he so intent on attacking Besseth? Why doesn’t he go after Roppon?”

Anchor raised his finger. “Affinity. Magicians need to recharge their inner fires through the nexus and it is much stronger in Roppon. People with marginal abilities on Besseth, can do wonders on Roppon.”

“I wouldn’t say wonders, Anchor,” Shiro said. “But he is right about the number of magicians. The Ropponi fight constantly among themselves and I don’t think he would find much success in Roppon. None have, that I know of.”

“Except long, long ago at the time of the Warstones,” Willom said. “Legend says that the Sunstone ruled the Ropponi Isles, but for only a generation.”

“I’ve heard of that,” Anchor said, withholding a smile. “The Sunstone would allow the holder to look into the soul of any who touched it along with him. An unprincipled ruler wouldn’t want his subjects to see into his motivations.”

Willom held up his hands as if to ward Anchor off. “I consider myself an honest man and wouldn’t want to be subjected to such a thing.”

“There is a possibility that Daryaku isn’t really after Besseth, but the Warstones,” Anchor said. “From what we know, he attacked the Serytar noble who possessed the Moonstone a generation ago. The world lost the Moonstone until a few years ago when it surfaced in the sword of Princess Restella of Valetan. We learned that the Moonstone transformed Lotto Mistad into a powerful mage and linked him to the Princess.”

“What of the Bloodstone?” King Willom said.

“Princess Sallia has it again,” Anchor said.

“Again? Did she lose it?”

“Unca received it from King Billeas and sent it back to her.”

Willom furrowed his brow. “Where is Unca? He seems to have disappeared.”

Shiro cleared his throat. “He is in hiding. He had the Bloodstone delivered to the princess.”

The king peered at Anchor and slapped his hand on his knee. “You are Unca!  I thought I recognized you. I’d like a youth spell on me, by the way.”

Anchor felt his face heat up and his mouth dried out. He couldn’t lie to his employer and decided to tell the king the truth. “I am. I didn’t mean to deceive you, King Willom. I’m not who I presented myself to be. I will step down.” He looked at his hands as he finished. His little game had been exposed and Anchor didn’t like the embarrassment it caused. He took a deep breath.

“Why would I have you step down? I can’t imagine a more creative and effective commander to fight off Duke Histron. Your job is not finished and I won’t tell a soul who you really are, especially my son,” the king made a face, “until you tell others yourself. How did you change? It’s no illusion because you’ve learned how to fight like a warrior. You have a young man’s reflexes, but what about Shiro—”

“He knows, your majesty. Remember there is one stone left? Shiro has the Sunstone. He used it on the prisoners. That word is probably wending its way to your court. He used it on me when we first met. He didn’t quite trust me, so I submitted to its effects. It works both ways. That is not a legend.”