Martin fumed silently, then said, ‘That’s … perfect.’
Brendan, Martin’s younger brother and his adjutant, had hurried from the heart of the city, dodging through the press of people who were waiting nearby to hear what news the scout might bring. He was almost out of breath when he stopped and gasped out, ‘A small band from LaMut has arrived.’
‘Some good news,’ said Martin, looking around. The two young men looked like twins, both with long brown hair to their shoulders and slender, agile bodies. Being only one year apart, the differences between them were growing smaller with each passing month. ‘How many?’
‘Forty,’ said Brendan. ‘Mostly men over fifty, but they seem fit: farmers and millers, loggers and the like. Twenty or so are bowmen.’
‘Good, we can always use more archers on the wall. See to their quarters.’
‘They’ve got this old-’ He laughed as he spread his arms widely, as if describing a fish he had caught. ‘A ballista that big … Maybe a bit bigger, but I’ve never seen its like. Said it’s been on the top of the gate in LaMut since … well, since anyone can remember. Some of the retired soldiers who came south thought it would be useful.’
Martin tried to be amused, but failed. ‘Have them bring it here.’ He glanced around and saw a small patch of earth between two buildings, perhaps once a garden in better days, and pointed at it. ‘Move the wagon there. We might need to put the ballista up on the wall.’ He scanned the entirety of the battlement above, then said, ‘But I have no idea where.’
Ylith held a unique position in the Kingdom. It was nestled in the north-eastern corner of a near-perfect but tiny harbour. Given the city’s position, the massive harbour gates were its main entrance. Away to the south-east, there was a small beach running barely a quarter of a mile between the southern edge of the city docks and the rocks along the quickly rising headlands. From there the coastline reared upward sharply to the promontory called Questor’s View, two days’ ride on a fast horse. A small village occupied the flat top of the promontory, and a small garrison was stationed there. The Duke had stripped it of soldiers as he marched south, leaving the village protected only by its surrounding terrain. From there, no safe landing existed until one was deep within the principality, near the town of Sarth, which currently was expecting the muster from Yabon.
Shoals and rocks hidden just below the surface, to the south-west of the harbour, provided a natural defence against any nearby landings. The shallows created a tide race, and every experienced captain gave that part of the coast a wide berth lest they be swept onto the rocks and wrecked. It was over half a day’s ride by swift horse before a safe landing south of the city could be found.
Between the city walls and foulborough beyond was an open plaza, giving archers on the wall a field of fire. The booths and stalls that on market days and holidays traditionally stood against the wall had been removed even before Martin and the Crydee muster had arrived.
Three roads intersected at the centre of the plaza south-west of the harbour gates: the highway to the Free Cities and Natal ran south along the bay; the road to Crydee moved away to the north-west; and a small road led east, which rapidly turned into a farmer’s track. Here lay the heart of Ylith’s commerce, the busy port that was the gateway to Yabon.
The city of Ylith had been seized by invaders once before, when the general leading the invading army of the Emerald Queen had set himself up as King of the Bitter Sea. Only a betrayal by one of his southern commanders in exchange for consideration from the Kingdom had allowed the tyrant to be dislodged. Martin had read the history of the Emerald Queen’s invasion and knew the vital part played by this city in protecting the principality, Yabon, and the passes to the Far Coast. The Kingdom might lose Crydee and recover, or even lose control of the eastern shore of the Bitter Sea between Ylith and Sarth, but if Ylith fell, all would be lost.
‘What news from the south?’ asked Brendan.
‘It’s bad,’ said Martin, handing over the message.
Brendan quickly read it. ‘Is he serious?’
‘Apparently.’ Martin threw the parchment into the dust and looked around. ‘If I were in his place I would not wish to explain to my duke where his infantry was, if he was expecting them to arrive in Sarth next week.’
‘Would you rather explain how you lost all of Yabon?’ countered Brendan.
‘Just following orders,’ said Martin dryly. ‘Well, the pirate we hired should have delivered my message to the Duke by the time the infantry reaches Sarth.’ He calculated. ‘If the Prince hasn’t commanded him to continue on to Krondor or stay in Sarth, he could be back here with his cavalry and light foot regiment in ten days.’
‘Lots of ifs,’ said Brendan.
‘I know,’ answered Martin. ‘Where are we now?’
His brother knew exactly what Martin was asking. ‘Our men at arms number three hundred from Crydee, plus the fifty irregulars the Duke of Yabon left here with Bolton.’ Captain Bolton was the nephew of the commander of the Earl of LaMut’s guard. The brothers were convinced that he had been left behind in the hope that no attack would ever reach this far north. Once he had been taken down a peg or two by Martin, the earnest young man had turned out to be completely out of his depth, which was the reason for all his bluster when they first met.
Brendan continued, ‘About two hundred men and boys have trickled in since you sent word north, but they’re the ones who were too unfit to answer the Duke of Yabon’s first muster: mostly old men, a few former soldiers, and eager boys, for the main part under fifteen years old. And too few damn weapons.’
‘Well, set them to making arrows. They’ll be slow at it at first, but if there are enough hands put to the task we should do well. I’d rather the archers had too many than too few.’
‘Wood is no problem, and the smiths here can do the broad-heads, but we’re going to have a problem with the flights: not enough feathers.’
‘Use chicken feathers if you have to. Set snares for pigeons and seagulls,’ snapped Martin. ‘I don’t care.’ Then he closed his eyes and said, ‘Sorry. I’m …’
Brendan put his hand on his brother’s arm. ‘I know.’ He indicated with a nod of his head that the scout was still standing nearby.
Martin dismissed the man with thanks and ordered the gates of the city sealed. He looked towards the heart of the town and said, ‘How are the provisions?’
‘Enough,’ said Brendan as they started walking back to the mayor’s house, which was being used for local headquarters. ‘With most of the fighting men down south, the local farms can provide enough for a siege, as long as we keep the north gate and road clear.’ The old baron’s castle on the hill to the north-west of the city was far enough away. Martin had done little more than give it a quick inspection, but it would serve as a last resort for defence if the entire town fell to the Keshians. It was his purpose to see that didn’t happen, for even if they held the keep above the town, Kesh would have achieved their purpose: bisecting the Western Realm. If that happened, no aid could flow in either direction. Not only would this region be lost, the entire Western Realm would be left vulnerable.
Martin glanced around as if seeking inspiration. His home of Crydee was already crawling with colonists from the far south of the Empire, the region known as the Keshian Confederacy, and they were aggressively driving out whoever occupied the farms and mills, mines and lumbering villages. Herds had been seized, as had anything else of value, and a steady stream of displaced Kingdom citizens entered Ylith on a daily basis.
‘You look lost in thought,’ observed Brendan.
Martin smiled slightly at his younger brother. ‘Just trying to imagine what I’d be doing next if I were the Keshian commander in Crydee.’
Brendan shrugged. ‘It would depend on what his orders are, right?’
Martin nodded. ‘We’ve not seen any Keshian ships this far north. Queg must be keeping them busy to the south.’
Brendan knew his brother meant that Queg was keeping Kesh from sailing west of their island kingdom. While no formal treaty existed between Queg and the Kingdom, they were effectively allied against Kesh’s northward expansion in the Bitter Sea. The part of the Kingdom fleet that wasn’t stationed down in Port Vykor and Krondor would be hugging the coast of the Principality, freeing Queg from the need to protect their eastern coast. ‘Even if they bottled up all of the Prince’s fleet at Krondor, some Kingdom ships had to sortie out of Port Vykor and would have been out on the water when this war started. Most likely, there’s a line of ships between Vykor and Sarth, enough to hold the Keshians in check.’
Martin nodded. ‘Which means Kesh is not reinforcing her armies by sea.’
‘So, the only large force they have in the region is the one that drove us out of Crydee,’ finished
