Fire And Ice (Book 1) (51 page)

             
“I have one question,” Devon put in.  “I know how good you are with a blade.  How was it you came to be surrounded?  You had to be to get stabbed in the back, unless you were careless somehow?”

             
Good old Devon.  Coran saw his friend smiling, and realized that Devon knew he had left something out on purpose.

             
“Coran?” Katelyn said in a tone that left no room for denial.

             
“I was on the inside of the walls with Soelidin.  Someone gave the alarm and we couldn’t get the gates open.”

             
“What did you do?” Margery asked earnestly.  All around the table they were leaning closer, watching him.

             
“We charged them,” he stated quietly.

             
“What did you do?” Devon asked.  He must have been too quiet.

             
“I said we attacked them.”

             
Devon laughed out loud and the idea became contagious.  All except for Katelyn who just shook her head in disapproval.

             
“I would like to hear again how you destroyed that fleet in Lornth,” Stemis stated, and Coran gave him a grateful smile for the change in subject. 

              They stopped outside Katelyn’s rooms.  It was after midnight and they were both very tired.  Shirri had eventually joined them for a time.  Her healing had taken a lot out of her so she just stayed long enough to meet everyone.  She appeared overwhelmed by such a friendly welcome, so they explained how grateful they were to her for saving his life. 

             
“You don’t know how much I missed you,” Katelyn said, holding his hand.

             
“Yes, I do.”  He ran his free hand through her luxurious hair.  “You are so beautiful.”

             
She smiled that special smile that left his heart racing.  “I am nothing without you,” she said and raised herself up on her toes.  The kiss they shared was lingering, heartfelt.  They embraced again before separating.

             
“It is late,” she said, glancing to the door reluctantly.

             
“I should let you get some sleep,” he replied, just as reluctant to have the night end.

             
She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped. 

             
He had no idea what it was she had been about to say, but it was clear she had decided not to say it.  “Good night, My Lady,” he told her, giving a playful bow.

             
“Good night, My Lord,” she responded with a quick curtsy and a smile. 

             
He watched her enter her rooms and close the door behind her.  It was good to be home.

Chapter 27

Succession

              Oscan Trebore twirled a corner of his mustache while watching the party of horses and men approach.  Oscan stood amongst a camp of his own guardsmen that he had been recruiting for a long time.  Longer than anyone knew.  They were standing idly around on the side of the road, watching the newcomers with no apparent interest.  The black diamond of his house decorated the green shirts on their chest. 

             
Oscan himself was a short man and that deficiency had always rankled him.  He was jealous of those taller than himself and had to rely on his power to avoid feeling inferior.  Oscan knew this to be true and accepted it by finding ways to increase that power.   

             
The man leading the escort of a hundred men in the red and yellow checks of Grendin, was a much taller man.  He was old though, nearly sixty-five, and his health was poor.  Mattis Morleson looked on the call to arms from Summerhall as his last chance for battle.  His last chance for glory.  He embraced the idea with a fever of excitement for one more opportunity to go to war.  His white hair was well kept and he looked almost feeble in the armor he wore.  The King of Grendin scanned the encampment with a look of satisfaction.

             
“You have done exceedingly well, Lord Oscan,” Mattis announced in a scratchy voice that was once much more vibrant.  “What you have here nearly doubles the forces of Grendin.  We will do our Kingdom proud when the time comes for battle.”

             
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”  Oscan gave a hasty bow.  He straightened and peered at the column of men behind the King, keeping the scowl from showing on his face.  “Did your son not come with you?”

             
“I am afraid not.  He had to stay in Fairtown.  The army is beginning the march south.”

             
“Pity,” Oscan stated truthfully.  It would have been so much easier to have them both here together.                

“Shall we have something to drink and discuss moving your men south to join the rest?” Mattis suggested as he shifted his weight in preparation for dismounting.

              “I do not think that will be necessary,” the short Lord of Canby said, a cruel smile touching his mouth.  He raised a hand and his soldiers who had been watching the greeting with casual disinterest suddenly produced short bows and arrows that were knocked and aimed quickly.

             
“What is the meaning of this!” the King demanded.  His face was red with rage.  He stared murder at Oscan.  “I did not know that your wisdom matched your height.”

             
That was enough for Oscan.  He lowered his hand.  Up and down the column arrows were loosed.  The King’s escort drew their weapons and launched themselves at their traitorous attackers, most already riddled with arrows. 

             
Oscan watched as Mattis tried to find the hilt of his own blade with the shaft of an arrow sticking out of his neck, and another two in his back.  The old man was stronger than he looked.  His hand fell away from the hilt and slowly he toppled from the saddle to lay in the growing puddle of his own blood spreading across the brown grass and dirt. 

             
Oscan went to stand over the fallen king.  It had started, he had really done it.  All the little slights he had endured during his youth would soon be avenged.  The crown of Grendin would be his.

              The fire crackled in the forest clearing.  Snow carpeted the ground and weighed down the boughs of the evergreens around them.  In the dark, Naras puffed on his pipe and blew a ring of smoke that floated slowly up into the still, crisp air.  Tomorrow they would leave the boundary lands behind them, hopefully, never to return.  Winter was not a good time to be in the North if you didn’t like the cold. 

             
“All right,” Urik said.  “Now that we delivered the gold where do we go from here?”

             
“South,” Naras stated.  The gold was to stiffen the resolve of some of the more nervous of the sordid men they were forced to employ.  It had been necessary for what they wanted to be done.  Gorod was the only one who had welcomed the idea.  Naras thought the man was a bit unbalanced in the head.  That made him the perfect choice to lead the others.  The only problem had been finding the criminal, since he was hiding out with a very large bounty on his head.  The other men they had talked to didn’t want to work for a crazy man like Gorod, but the combination of gold and promises of pardons when the West was defeated persuaded them.  Some of them might even survive long enough to see it. 

             
“Where south?” Urik asked as he filled his own pipe and lit it with a fig from the fire.

             
“We should get a message soon, but until then we head for Summerhall.”

             
“Aren’t we about finished with our part?  I mean when the actual fighting starts there isn’t much we can do, is there?”

             
“Maybe,” Naras replied.  He doubted it though.  He knew that Elthzidor wouldn’t be finished with them so soon.  There would always be something more until Summerhall was finally defeated.  He tapped out the dregs from his pipe and tucked it into the saddlebag lying next to him.  He was glad he had brought a tent or it would be an even more miserable night than it already was.

               The four guardsmen that escorted them to the hilltop reined in their horses and arranged themselves in a protective arc around Coran and Shirri.  After last night an escort seemed the prudent thing to do. 

             
“This is a good spot,” he told her and they turned their mounts to face the island city.  He had told her he would take her out so she could see it in the light of day.  By the light coming over the eastern horizon he judged that it would not be long before the sunlight hit the city.

             
He was right.  Within the next half hour the sun rose high enough to shine on the city that was situated on the island which halved the sparkling Greenriver.  The sunlight gleamed off the high, thick walls and the towers that soared even higher.  The blue and gold banner of the sun could be seen flying proudly from the tops of the towers.  He nearly shielded his eyes from the brightness reflected off the walls of white stone.  Shining bridges arched gracefully over the water below.  Roads ran off from the bridges to divide and head off in all directions.  It was an amazing sight.

             
“It is even more beautiful than I imagined,” Shirri stated in awe.  A tear leaked from the corner of her eye.

             
“Are you all right?” he asked in concern. 

             
“Fine,” she replied and wiped at her eye with the back of a hand.  “It is just that my father always talked about seeing Summerhall, but he never had the chance.”

             
“I am sorry.”  He didn’t know what else to say.

             
“Do not be foolish,” she admonished, but he could tell that her heart was not in it this time.

             
“Is that why you came here?” he asked carefully.

             
She kept her gaze on the city that filled her vision.  “That was one reason.”              

He waited for her to volunteer more, but nothing came.  He sat his horse silently as she got her look at the city of the sun.

             
Katelyn, suddenly finding herself with nothing else to do, decided to go to the yard.  The walls did a good job blocking the cold wind blowing in from the west.  She found her friends already there; Devon in plain browns and Alys in her suitable clothing.  They stopped their sparring when she appeared.  No one else was present this morning.

             
“Where is Coran?” Alys asked her.  “I thought he would be with you.”

             
“So did I,” she replied and immediately scolded herself for the disapproving tone of voice.  “He left a message that he was going out early this morning.  With Shirri.”  From what Coran had told them she knew that he and Shirri had been traveling together for quite a while.  She had to admit that she felt a little jealous that the woman had been with him through so many adventures. 

             
“Uh oh.”  The statement slipped out of Devon’s mouth. 

             
“You are not worried about Coran, are you?” asked Alys carefully. 

             
She shook her head.  “No, not him.  I am just wondering why she came all this way.  It was not just to see the city.”  She was sure of that.  Call it woman’s intuition, something her mother had tried to explain to her once, but she didn’t understand it until now.

             
“Are you sure about that?” Alys pressed.

             
“I have a feeling about her.  She is more than she seems.”

             
“Where did they go?” Devon asked.

             
“He took her out so that she could see the city in the daytime.”              

“Makes sense,” he commented.  He noticed the faces of the two women.  “I mean if she came to see Summerhall,” he said defensively and shrugged.

              “You just earned yourself the right to be first,” she told him and picked out a wooden blade from the rack.

             
“Why do I even open my mouth,” he said half to himself.  “You would think that I had learned better by now.”  He raised his own practice weapon and waited for her to advance.

             
After a while they stopped, and Devon backed away with a few new bruises to rub.  Katelyn spotted Coran entering the yard wearing his black and silver, Shirri was with him.  She wore the same brown robes she had arrived in. 

             
“I thought I would find you here,” Coran smiled at her.

             
“Care to try me?” she said in reply.  “I have been practicing.”

             
He looked down at his clean clothes.  “I am not really dressed for it.”

             
“Afraid to get a little dirty?”

             
“All right,” he conceded, and grabbed a weapon. 

             
The others stood by and watched.  Shirri seemed to be especially curious as she watched Katelyn closely.

             
Coran attacked first, it was tentative, probing.  Her response was not.  She forced him back with a fury of swings.  As he neared the wall behind him he pushed past her thrust and spun away. 

             
“You have been practicing,” he complimented her.

             
“And I remember you being more skilled.”  She punctuated the last word with a slashing attack.                

He countered it easily, and the next ones too.  His blade was a blur.  In one instant she was defending a slash to her side and in the next she found the tip of his wooden blade against her throat without seeing how it had gotten there.  His face was serious as he removed it and leaned in. 

              “Is something wrong?” he whispered.

             
She realized for the first time that she had been angry.  Quickly she masked her surprise with a smile.  “Of course not.”  She glanced at the sky.  “I have a meeting with Lord Roland.”  Glad for the excuse to leave and without waiting for a reply she put the practice blade back in the rack and left.  Did Shirri really bother her that much?  She hadn’t thought so.

              Sitting behind the desk in his study, Stemis stacked together the papers cluttering up his desk top, and placed them to one side.  He reached over and opened the top left drawer.  Pulling out the small pieces of paper stuffed into the back, he then laid them down on the desktop and started looking through them.  Finding the two he needed, he returned the others and closed the drawer.  He perused the words quickly, finding the part in each he thought to be important.

             
Let the Queen of Battles reign,

             
And the Champion of Light protect us.

             
One shall sit upon a throne of fire,

             
The other shall wield a sword of ice,

               
               The door to the hall opened and closed as Gelarus entered to stand before him.  “You wished to see me?” he asked looking around briefly for the usually present Oran.  “Privately, it seems.”

             
“I was thinking about that night.  The one over sixteen years ago.”

             
“Which night would that be?” the wizard asked him innocently.

             
Stemis kept his face calm.  “Do not play games with me.  You know the night I refer to, when the fire rained from the sky for the second time.”