Magician's End

  The captain nodded and had the men form up in two columns, then motioned for Minton to lead.

  Hal was impressed. Thirty well-armed soldiers were usually heard before they were seen. And palace guards and garrison soldiers lacked trail discipline. He was now convinced there was more to this particular troop than an escort for a message rider. All the soldiers at Crydee were trained for forest duty; the nature of the region demanded it, but Bas-Tyra was an ancient city surrounded by farmlands with no forest within three days’ ride. And what scattered woodlands they had in that duchy didn’t provide cover for outlaws, poachers, and fugitives.

  But these men were trained for stealth, and Hal now knew why the Duke of Bas-Tyra’s mystery man Jaston had attached Ty and Hal to this detail; this was a special unit of infiltrators, or assassins. Hal’s father had told him of such, though Crydee had never had the need for soldiers of this type, but in the Eastern Realm, warfare was not always overt.

  They reached a split where what appeared to be a dry rivulet turned into a game trail that wended upwards into the rocks. Minton pointed and pantomimed archers, and the four bowmen headed up the indicated trail. Minton then held up his hand, fingers spread, and pointed down, indicating they needed to wait five minutes before moving again.

  Hal stood motionless, scanning faces. There was nothing about this band of soldiers to suggest anything out of the ordinary, but he was now certain looks were deceiving.

  Minton held up his hand when the five minutes passed and directed them down the dry river bed. Like thieves at night, the remaining twenty-six soldiers, their captain, Hal, and Ty moved silently down the draw, their boots barely making any sound as they carefully lifted and placed their feet.

  They came to a large outcrop and Minton motioned for them to circle around it. He held up one finger, and the captain turned and relayed the instruction, which Hal took to mean they’d move in single file.

  For what seemed an hour but was only five or six minutes, they moved around the large rock and down another draw, then found themselves moving into dense woods. Hal realized they were moving back towards the King’s Highway, moving down from the north.

  Minton turned south-east and as they came out of a thicket of trees, pointed to what had to be the ambush. Hal craned his neck and after a moment saw movement in the rocks above what must be the gap where the highway cut through these hilly woods.

  Captain Reddic motioned and the column moved slowly around in a broad, looping course until they were just north of the highway, directly behind the ambushers.

  The King’s Highway cut through a natural pass about a hundred yards across, flanked on both sides by rock formations: the one to the north where they had circled, and another to the south several times as large. Minton had been smart enough to scout out the shortest route to the ambushers’ rear.

  Hal looked high into the rocks to the north and saw nothing, to his relief. He knew that if the archers were in place, the second they heard fighting below, they would pop up and help bring a quick end to the struggle.

  Captain Reddic knelt and the rest of them followed suit. Then he leaned forward and pointed to the end of the line, held up seven fingers, then pointed to the rocky position to the north of the road. After that, he pointed to a small clump of trees and the last seven men in line got up and scampered to that position.

  He motioned for the other men to follow him, and moved in a south-westerly direction. If the ambushers were evenly divided, the northern contingent would come under bow fire from above, Hal realized; hence the unequal division of their forces.

  Hal was thanking Ruthia, Goddess of Luck, that they hadn’t been noticed, when a voice ahead whispered, ‘I see dust!’

  The men in the rocks shifted position and now Hal could see their entire deployment.

  Captain Reddic seemed to be counting silently; then with a single motion, he stood and slowly drew his sword. Silently, the men in his command took their shields off their backs and silently drew their weapons. Hal and Ty did so as well.

  The captain held his blade aloft for only a moment, then made a single downward cut, and started a slow, measured run, Ty and Hal a step behind the other soldiers who knew what was coming. They jogged along silently, then broke into a sprint. One of the ambushers heard the movement and turned, shouting alarm, and the fight was fully joined.

  Besides having the element of surprise, it was clear that Bas-Tyra’s soldiers were far deadlier fighters. The shouts from the north told Hal that the other side of the road was under attack as well.

  Hal saw a soldier coming down out of the rocks and made a run at the man. These were trained soldiers they attacked, but none wore a uniform. The man Hal charged wore a white shirt with a leather jerkin over it and heavy wool trousers. He carried a finely honed long sword, but no shield. He saw Hal coming and leaped, expecting to bowl him over, but Hal dodged to his right, slicing the man’s throat for his troubles.

  Blood fountained and Hal swung around, seeing Ty quickly dispose of his opponent, and move to come to the aid of a Bas-Tyra soldier being hard pressed by two attackers.

  ‘I need one alive!’ Hal shouted to whoever could hear him.

  Ty obliged by reversing his sword and striking one of the two soldiers hard behind the ear, dropping him senseless, then kicking him hard in the jaw.

  ‘And who can talk!’ shouted Hal.

  Ty grinned, then skewered the other soldier through the leg. He went down with a cry of pain.

  Hal saw Captain Reddic fighting with one man and with another ambusher coming up behind him. ‘Reddic! Behind you!’ he shouted.

  The captain slashed low with his blade then moved to his right, swinging around just as the man behind him stabbed. The blade missed running him though, but did catch him in his side.

  Hal ran and in five strides stuck down the man Reddic had faced, smashing him in the throat with his left arm, then stabbing to his right at the man menacing Reddic from behind. His blade cut air, but the second man retreated as Hal kicked the one on the ground in the face.

  Reddic clutched his left side and thrust at the man who had wounded him. Hal turned and ran at the man, passing Reddic, who was walking on wobbly legs.

  Feigning an overhand slash, Hal turned his blade and lunged, taking the attacker in the stomach. The man’s face registered a look of astonishment as blood came flowing out of his mouth and his eyes went blank before he fell over.

  Hal spun to find Reddic sitting on the ground clutching his side. ‘The fight’s over there,’ he shouted at Hal, pointing with his sword.

  Hal charged a knot of ambushers who were organizing themselves into a tight defensive group that would prove tough to attack. He saw where most of the Bas-Tyra men were disposing of their opponents, and shouted, ‘To me!’ A half-dozen black-and-gold-clad soldiers ran to him.

  ‘Shield line!’ he commanded, indicating with his sword where he wanted it. The six soldiers obeyed instantly. ‘Raise shields!’ Hal shouted. The six men raised their shields until they were peering over the top. ‘Charge!’

  The six men ran straight at the ambushers who drew back their weapons and made ready to parry and counter. But the attackers didn’t stop; they smashed shield-first into the group, sending bodies flying in every direction.

  Suddenly it was in-close, hand-to-hand fighting. Ty came over to join Hal. ‘That looks interesting. Should we lend them a hand?’

  ‘I think we’d just be getting in the way.’

  ‘These Bas-Tyra boys are a tough bunch.’

  ‘I was thinking the same thing.’

  The fight was quickly over. Five soldiers ran off in the direction of the horses and left the rest in charge of the prisoners.

  Of the ambushers four remained alive, three conscious. Half a dozen men from Bas-Tyra sported wounds, but only the captain’s appeared grave. Hal came over to where the scout Minton tended him.

  Kneeling, Hal said, ‘Captain?’ He saw frothy blood on Reddic’s lips and knew that was a
bad sign.

  The captain waved Minton away. ‘Leave me propped up against this rock. I’ve got something to say to our friend.’

  Minton helped the captain into a more comfortable position and when they were alone, Reddic motioned for Hal to come close. ‘My lord, I fear I am dying. Something inside is bleeding and I can feel my strength draining away.’ Hal moved to inspect the wound, but the captain pushed his hands away. ‘No disrespect, my lord, but I don’t have time for you to delude yourself that you can get me to Salador before I die. If the time getting there didn’t kill me, the ride will. I have something important to tell you. The communiqués in my saddle pouch are unimportant. They are for the Duke of Salador, and a few are to be sent on by courier to other local nobles in Deep Taunton and Pointer’s Head. But sewn into my shirt is a letter from the Duke of Bas-Tyra to Prince Edward. War is coming, and my lord wishes Edward to know Bas-Tyra stands with him. He has gulled Chadwick of Ran into thinking he might stand with Oliver, but that is a ruse.’

  Hal nodded. ‘Someone in your master’s court is a spy, else how would they know about this journey and that letter, and set this ambush?’

  Reddic coughed and blood ran down his chin. ‘Montgomery of Rillanon still stands neutral, but my lord believes Chadwick of Ran is reaching agreement with Prince Oliver. That letter details what my lord Bas-Tyra has found so far.’

  ‘How was the letter to reach Prince Edward?’ asked Hal.

  ‘There’s a courier waiting for me at a tavern near the palace in Salador.’

  Ty approached and said, ‘Something important.’

  ‘What?’ asked Hal, looking over his shoulder.

  ‘None of the men would talk until they saw me skewer two of the wounded,’ Ty said. ‘It was all show. They were already dead; I just claimed they still lived. These men are not just swords for hire; they’re Vale mercenaries.’ Ty paused, then said, ‘My lord of Salador paid dearly to bring them up from the Vale and detail them to destroy this patrol.’

  ‘Salador?’ said Reddic. ‘The Duke of Salador has been neutral but firm that all measures be taken for a peaceful settlement on who wears the Crown.’

  ‘Was neutral, you mean,’ said Hal. ‘If a spy in your master’s castle got word to a fast boat, they would have been in Salador three days ago, giving ample time for this ambush to be planned. Then should questions arise, an unfortunate attack by murdering outlaws who ran off with your horses, swords, and any communiqués you might carry.’ His expression turned curious. ‘But how did the Duke of Salador get men here from the Vale so quickly?’

  ‘I’ll find out,’ said Ty. A moment later there was a painful yelp and after that Ty returned and said, ‘Our lord of Salador, apparently, has been recruiting mercenaries from both the Vale and northern Kesh for months now. He has them scattered about at inns and taverns throughout the duchy. This bunch was personally instructed by the duke’s chamberlain.’

  ‘What were his orders?’ asked Hal.

  ‘Kill everyone from Bas-Tyra and bring whatever was in the communiqué pouch to the postern gate of the castle. The leader of this lot said if he didn’t make it, the lads would get their second payment, whoever showed up, by telling the guard on duty, “Special orders for the chancellor”.’

  The captain coughed and more blood ran from the corner of his mouth. ‘Let me tell you how to find the agent.’

  ‘No,’ said Hal. ‘As soon as the horses get here, I’m turning your men around and sending them back to Bas-Tyra. Ty and I will enter the city as we planned, alone and posing as two swords for hire. I’ll personally get this letter to Prince Edward.’

  He looked down at the captain. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  Reddic shook his head, unable to speak, then closed his eyes. Suddenly his head lolled over and he let out a long death rattle.

  ‘Minton!’ shouted Hal.

  The scout ran forward.

  ‘Your captain is dead, Minton.’ Hal reached into his belt-pouch, removed his father’s signet and slipped it on his finger. He knelt by Reddic and pulled away his shirt, finding the letter sewn into the lining. Using his belt-knife, Hal cut the letter out and slipped it into his own shirt. Then he pulled away the captain’s bloody tabard with his badge of office sewn over the sigil of Bas-Tyra and wadded it up in a ball. ‘Where’s the communiqué pouch?’

  ‘On his horse, sir.’

  As he stood, he could hear the horses coming and looked up to see the five riders, each leading a string of mounts.

  The men of Bas-Tyra were gathered around the remaining prisoners and Hal approached them. ‘I’m Henry, Duke of Crydee and I’m assuming command. Who is the senior ranking officer?’

  A slender man Hal had only known as Carmody said, ‘Sir, I’m the squad sergeant.’

  ‘Orders, sergeant.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘First, fetch me the communiqué pouch from your captain’s horse. Then take a message to Jaston, and speak to no one else but him.’

  ‘Jaston,’ nodded the sergeant. ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘Tell him your duke’s suspicions about Chadwick and Arthur of Salador are correct and he should act to protect himself.’

  The sergeant paused and then said, ‘My lord’s suspicions about Lords Chadwick and Arthur are correct and you advise him to protect himself.’

  ‘Then tell him he has a spy in his court; tell him about the ambush and that they knew you were coming.’

  ‘Easy to remember that, sir,’ he said sadly, looking down at the still form of his captain.

  ‘Last, take the captain back to Bas-Tyra and tell your master he was served as well as a man can be served by a man who merited a better fate than being ambushed by robbers.’

  ‘Robbers?’ said one of the prisoners. ‘We’re not robbers! We’re war prisoners. It’s the code of mercenaries. We surrendered all proper like.’

  Looking at the four remaining prisoners, Hal said, ‘Who’s your leader?’

  ‘It was Benson,’ said the man who spoke before. ‘He’s over there, food for crows. I’m Galton, next in charge.’

  None of the other men objected, so Hal nodded. ‘You’re Vale mercenaries, swords for hire, men with loyalty only to gold. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just a band of robbers.

  ‘I, Henry, by patent of the Crown and right of birth, prince of the Kingdom of the Isles, do by right pronounce the king’s High Justice.’ Looking at Carmody, he said, ‘Hang them.’

  Suddenly three shouting and fearful men were being dragged to a stand of trees. ‘What about the unconscious one, my lord?’ asked one of the Bas-Tyra soldiers.

  ‘Hang him as well,’ said Hal and the unconscious man was dragged after the others.

  Ty came over and said, ‘Harsh.’

  ‘Do you disagree?’

  With no mockery, Ty said, ‘No, my lord. You have the right.’ He paused, then said, ‘And I think it necessary.’

  Hal was silent as he watched the first man hauled up by his neck. Then he said, ‘If Salador stands with Oliver, Bas-Tyra is right: Chadwick must have moved to Oliver’s standard. Salador would never act without powerful allies in the east.’

  Ty let out a tired sigh. ‘It means we will have war.’

  ‘No,’ said Hal. ‘It means the war has already begun.’

  He turned and moved to where his horse waited and Ty followed.

  Hal and Ty reined in as they caught sight of the northern gate of the city of Salador. A full squad of soldiers was halting everyone going in or out. ‘What is this?’ asked Ty.

  Both men had rehearsed their roles as vagrant mercenaries, and both looked the part, having neither shaved nor bathed since leaving Silden. Being covered with road dust after a day’s ride in a nasty hot windstorm had added to the illusion.

  ‘Readying for war,’ said Hal. ‘Our lord of Salador is worried about agents for other claimants to the throne entering his city.’

  ‘Well, given the jumble of politics in the Kingdom now, I suspect every city from
one end to the other has enough agents and spies that no one does anything without everyone knowing.’ He looked at Hal. ‘Did that come out right?’

  Hal laughed. ‘I know what you mean.’ He sighed. ‘I’d give a lot to be able to get a message to Jim Dasher right now.’

  ‘I’m sure he has people here.’

  ‘But finding them,’ said Hal, ‘that’s the problem.’

  Slowly they moved to the head of the line and a soldier said, ‘State your business.’

  Ty glanced at Hal who said, ‘Special orders for the chancellor.’

  ‘Give it here,’ said the soldier, holding out his hand.

  ‘Orders are to give it to him personally,’ said Hal.

  ‘Whose orders?’

  ‘The duke’s,’ said Hal without blinking.

  Hal’s ease of manner outweighed whatever perceived benefit the soldier thought he might gain by delivering the message personally, and finally he said, ‘All right then, but go straight to the palace. No stopping for a drink with the whores.’

  Hal waved in a casual salute and headed through the gate. The Northern Gate Road led straight to a palace on the highest hill in Salador, a bluff overlooking the harbour. Hal reflected as they approached that he and Duke Arthur were relatives, albeit distantly, as their common ancestor had been the third Duke of Crydee, Borric. His son Martin was Hal’s ancestor and his daughter Carline had been Arthur’s many-times great-grandmother.

  But like most relationships among the nobility of the Kingdom, blood ties were only important when they served political ambition. Hal had no doubt that if Oliver’s advisors had cautioned the Prince of Maladon and Simrick to put Hal’s head on a pike, his distant cousin Arthur would be obliging if he was, indeed, Oliver’s man.

  The duke’s palace had once been a major fortification. But, looking around, Hal muttered, ‘Give me five hundred men through that gate and I’d take this castle within ten minutes.’

  Ty said, ‘Makes you wonder why Kesh wasn’t here during the recent unpleasantries.’

  ‘Because most of their army was sacking the Free Cities and my duchy,’ said Hal quietly but with obvious bitterness.