surprisingly she would have been happy to hear it.
Gaston’s heart began to slow when the woman didn’t speak up immediately, but then Sarbeth surprised him.
“Speaker Torres has called to us, Captain Marcum wishes to speak with you,” she said in a soft, feminine voice which did not match her appearance.
Gaston frowned and glanced at Captain Kerr, who shrugged, also puzzled.
“Proceed,” Gaston told the Speaker and at once Sarbeth closed her eyes and began to weave her hands about in front of her. Gaston couldn’t help but notice that her hands were large and rough looking.
It took several long minutes before a small distortion coalesced in the air directly before her. When, at last, her hands dropped, she opened her eyes and spoke clearly. “Speaker Torres…Captain Gaston is present.”
“Captain,” Gaston heard the voice of Captain Marcum, his old friend and mentor, “we need immediate assistance or Lynndon will fall. Where are you located?”
Gaston frowned again. “We’re five miles outside the town of Maenlarn…maybe sixty miles from you.”
“Excellent!” Marcum answered and Gaston could hear the excitement in his friend’s voice. “Can you ride on Lynndon?”
Gaston glanced at Captain Kerr once more.
“My orders are to harass and occupy the Knights,” Gaston replied carefully.
“Your orders will lose us the Plateau,” Marcum snapped back. Gaston had been under Marcum’s direct command from the time he’d joined the Massi army, back when Gwaynn’s father, Arnot was still King.
“How soon can you get here?”
Kerr stared at Gaston and shook his head negatively.
“If you want us in battle condition…maybe sixteen hours.”
They heard Marcum mutter something unintelligible. “That’s too long. We’ll all be dead by noon tomorrow.”
“After the death of Captain Tanner, King Gwaynn gave us very clear instructions as to our role in this war,” Kerr said finally speaking up.
“Who is that? Is that you Kerr?’
“Yes Sir.”
“Did Gwaynn instruct you to give the Plateau to the Deutzani? Do you know the war is lost if that happens? Do you?”
“No sir…I mean yes sir,” Kerr said clearly flustered.
“Then shut your yap and let me deal with the strategy. Gaston…I need you here…I need you here at all possible speed. Can I count on you?”
Gaston paused for only a moment. He had no wish to disobey his King, but he also knew that if he stayed on the plains and continued to trade blows with the Knights, the Massi cavalry would soon be gone.
“We’ll be there…we’ll be there before noon tomorrow, although what shape our horses will be in is hard to say.”
“Bless you Captain…and don’t worry about Gwaynn. I’ll contact him about your change of plans. Now get moving,” Marcum added and almost at once the Speaker bubble disappeared.
Gaston turned to Kerr, who was pale with worry. “Break camp,” Gaston ordered. It was late in the evening, but he thought they might have two hours of safe riding left in the day. “I know the men and horses are tired, but I’d not try to do the entire sixty miles in the morning…let’s break it up and get a bit closer.”
“As you say,” Kerr said with a nod and left the tent, hurrying to get the men up and about once more. The broke camp fifteen minutes later, most of the men actually relieved that they would be facing an enemy other than the Temple Knights.
?
Captain Hothgaard was still in shock. The counter attack against the Massi cavalry was executed flawlessly, but somehow everything went wrong and they’d lost five hundred and twenty-one men and horses…five hundred and twenty-one. It was inconceivable…utterly unthinkable, but Hothgaard knew it could have been much, much worse. If the Massi commander had not foolishly broken off from the fight in all probability Hothgaard and his Knights would have been utterly wiped out. And the worst of it was that the Knights under his command were some of his most veteran men…experienced, hard combat cavalry men, not the new recruits conscripted after their losses to the Toranado. He left his green troops near Cape in the relative safety of the siege. The defeat left Hothgaard uneasy. First the Toranado and now the Massi had challenged the Temple Knights and pushed them to their limits. It was becoming painfully obvious to the Captain that the Knights no longer enjoyed complete dominance on the battlefield; the Families of the Inland Sea were learning and improving. The High King would be wise to abandon the attempt to retake the Massi lands and give the Temple Knights time to regroup, retrain and recapture their elite standing. It was a sobering thought and not one the Captain relished having, nor did he look forward to reporting such a setback to King Mastoc.
He did not have time to worry about the upcoming encounter however, as Sergeant Lewis poked his head into the tent.
“Speaker Nadler reports contact with Gan…the High King wants details on our situation,” the Sergeant announced, thankful once again that he was not in command of the Knights.
Hothgaard nodded and waited quietly as the Speaker entered and set about making contact with the High King.
“King Weldon has entered the Pass and Arden is convinced that Lynndon will fall very soon,” King Mastoc said confidently. “I want you to move up the timetable and lay siege to Manse. The Massi are finished. Bring the traitorous Prince to me alive if at all possible. I would like to be present when his head is cut from his body.”
Captain Hothgaard said nothing for a moment, considering the apparent good news coming from all across the land, but then he said very strongly. “I think we should pull out of Massi. Gwaynn’s forces are formidable and after the encounter with the Toranado the Temple Knights are as weak and inexperienced as we’ve ever been. The risk may not be worth the gain.”
“What! What are you saying? Massi is ready to fall,” the High King blustered. “Pull out…have you lost your mind…or nerve.”
Hothgaard remained passive during the personal attack; he even smiled ever so slightly. “No, I believe my mind is still intact…as to my nerve…let’s say that I am not so much concerned for my welfare as for yours.”
“What do you mean? Why?”
“The Massi cavalry are loose on the plains…they are good, very good, perhaps even on par with your own Temple Knights.”
“Impossible!”
“Tell that to my dead men,” Hothgaard replied. “Whoever is leading the Massi horsemen is bold and aggressive and very well trained. Perhaps it’s King Gwaynn himself.”
“Prince Gwaynn!”
“As you wish…but my advice is still the same. I advise we pull out of Massi…at least for now, until we are in a stronger position.”
“You will not pull out of the fight…you will lay siege to Manse and you will either kill that Prince or bring him to me,” Mastoc yelled, his rage coming clearly through the silvery bubble hanging in space. Well, that could not be helped. Kings were like spoiled children…used to getting their way…used to the people fawning in constant agreement. Hothgaard promised himself long ago when he was promoted to lead the Temple Knights that the King would get nothing but the truth from him, no matter how disagreeable.
“Do I need to sail to Massi?”
“That would not be advisable or necessary. I’ll pull our strength together and do as you wish.”
“Manse will fall?”
“Manse will fall,” Hothgaard answered, hoping he was not breaking his long ago promise.
