Sun in Glory and Other Tales of Valdemar

more easily.

TRANCE TOWER GARRISON

by Fiona Patton

Fiona Patton was born in Calgary Alberta in 1962 and grew up in the United States. In 1975 she returned to Canada, and after several jobs which had nothing to do with each other, including carnival ride operator and electrician, moved to 75 acres of scrub land in rural Ontario with her partner, four-now six-cats of various sizes and one tiny little dog. Her first book, The Stone Prince, was published by DAW Books in 1997.

This was followed by The Painter Knight in 1998, The Granite Shield in 1999, and The Golden Sword in 2001, also by DAW. She is currently working on her next novel.

The Ice Wall Mountains were ablaze with color. The pink-and-orange glow of the setting sun crowned the tops of the pine trees and feathered across the foot-hills and plains like wisps of fire. It settled over the slate roofs of Trance Tower Garrison, the northern-most outpost of King Valdemar's young realm, and gleamed off the pikes and helmets of the surrounding force which had poured through the mountain passes at the first hint of spring.

Standing on the eastern ramparts, Corporal Norma Anzie of Gray Squad, one of Trance Tower's senior sentinels, spat toward the ground.

'That's one big friggin' army,' she noted sourly.

The gray-haired man standing beside her gave a brief nod. 'Yep.'

'And it looks like they're plannin' to stay.'

'Yep.'

'A long time.'

'Me'be.'

She glared over at him. 'Don't be strainin' your voice box now, Ernie.'

He shrugged. 'Me'be not so long,' he elaborated after a moment.

'How do you figure?'

'The King'll send help.'

'Only if he gets word.'

'Bessie got through.'

'You don't know that.'

His eyes narrowed. 'She got through,' he growled.

Raising her hands, Norma dropped the subject. After the first trickle of soldiers had come over the mountains, the garrison commander had sent his lieutenant galloping for the capital. As the trickle'd become a flood, he'd sent half a dozen more. All but one, Ernie's niece, Bess Taws, had been returned to them as a headless corpse thrown down before the gate-including the lieutenant. Bess was their only hope but, after nearly a month with no sign of aid, only Ernie still believed she'd made it through. Her expression grim, Norma squinted southward.

'How long do you figure it takes to get to Haven?' she asked.

Ernie shrugged. 'Ridin' hard, eight, me'be nine days.'

'Less if she could get a boat down the Terilee River.'

'Yep.'

'How long to raise a relief force?'

'Dunno. Depends.'

'A couple of weeks?'

'More like a couple of months, me'be.'

With a scowl, Norma peered up at the tiny line of enemy troops bringing supplies over the mountains. With the harsh northern winter just past, Trance Tower's own stores were low. If it took another month, it wouldn't matter if Bess had gotten through or not. The garrison would be out of food.

'You'd think there'd have been a paymaster or a supply wagon or somethin' come from Haven before now, anyway,' she snarled.

'Me'be there has been,' Ernie answered in an ominous voice.

As one, they glanced toward the main gate. Neither could see the dark, fly-covered bloodstains from where they stood but that didn't stop them from looking.

'How long before they'd be due back do you figure someone might go lookin' for them?'

'Dunno. A while, I guess.'

Returning her attention to the force below, Norma shook her head. 'With a friggin' army that big,'

she muttered, 'you'd think somebody would've noticed it by now.'

Ernie just shrugged.

The sound of shouting pulled their attention back inside the garrison.

'What the...?'

From their vantage point they could see a knot of people behind the west barracks, shouting at-cheering on- Norma amended, two struggling figures. There was a glint of golden hair as one had his head knocked back from a well-placed blow, and Ernie swore.

'Garet!'

'Blast! You know that means Andy.'

Ernie was already halfway to the stairs.

'Little . . . I told him . . . come on,' he puffed angrily.

* * *

Andy ducked a wild swing, drove his fists into the other youth's unprotected right side in a quick flurry of blows, then danced back with a tight smile. Although Garet was older and larger than he, no one at Trance Tower was faster. Around him, the growing crowd began to chant his name, and the smile snapped off. Time to finish this before the noise drew the wrath of the sergeant-at-arms down on them.

He pressed forward.

Sixteen-year-old Ander Harrow had been born in the garrison. His mother had died in childbirth and his father and three others had been caught in a rock-slide when he was nine. Jem and Karl Harrow's remaining squad-mates had raised the boy together, bringing him into the Guard at twelve, protecting him, teaching him, but mostly just trying to keep him out of trouble.

Garet Barns had joined the garrison two years before, and although they were not friends, at eighteen he was the closest to Andy's own age, which meant that when Andy was bored or just itching to cause mischief he either sought Garet out to manipulate him into some scheme, or goad him into a fight.

Garet had a quick temper that could always be counted on to flare up with the right words and Andy always knew the right words.

Now, his blue eyes narrowed, Garet watched the other youth weave back and forth in a parody of feints and counter feints, then struck out. His fist connected right where he planned. Andy went flying into the crowd.

The blood on his face gleaming as brightly as his dark eyes, Andy showed his teeth to his opponent in recognition of the blow, then leaped up, only to be jerked off his feet once again.

'What the blue blazes do you think you're playin' at!'

Her fist wrapped in the back of his shirt, Norma shook him like a dog with a rat in its teeth.

'Haven't we told you half a hundred times, no more fightin'?'

Behind them, Ernie stepped in front of Garet, who simply wiped the blood from his nose with an even expression. Andy gave Norma a disarming smile.

'It was just a boxing match.'

'Bollocks!'

'Really. Something to pass the time and keep fit, right Garet?'

Andy turned his wide-eyed gaze on the other youth who just shrugged. 'Sure, whatever.'

'I'll show you fit, I'll toss you off the north wall. Then we'll see how bloody fit you are with half them bastards out there chasin' you.'

'Now there's an idea.'

All eyes turned to see the sergeant-at-arms leaning against the barracks, his expression dark.