Fire And Ice (Book 1) (76 page)

             
“Be careful,” his wife told him, giving him another hug.              

             
“I will,” he assured her.  “I have fought off pirates before and Ithanians are little more than that sort of sea scum.”  They had already argued over the subject.  He believed it was his duty to fight for the freedom they enjoyed.  She said that was what soldiers were paid for.  She was really just upset by his leaving and finally stopped arguing with him.  “You take care of your mother,” he told Jon, the oldest boy.  “And you take care of your brothers,” he said to his blonde haired daughter, Krista.  He stepped back and took a long, last look at his family.  “I will be back before you know it.”  He smiled and turned away towards his ship and waiting crew.

             
Coran was assaulted by a number of queer dreams.  In the first he was holding Ice, but it wasn’t really him.  He was fighting those men with the helmets that obscured everything but their eyes.  That was strange too because he did not know where it was that he fought.  After that he found himself confronted by a number of Ithanians.  They had plumes sticking up above polished helmets, and instead of wearing pants, the skirts of a smock-like outfit hung down to their knees.  They were in a city that he had never seen before, but somehow knew it to be Ithan.  He went to other places as well that he did not know.  The only thing that was the same about all those dreams was that in every one he held Ice.

             
Coran’s eyes shot open and he sat upright.  He realized that he had fallen asleep in the prow of the ship.  The stars twinkled high up in the sky.  They seemed so far away. 

             
He noticed that the ship did not seem to be moving very fast.  Pushing himself up from the deck he looked around and noticed some of the men were sitting around the deck drinking, and others were playing at a game with dice.  There were a number who were using the time to sleep as he had.  He saw a big, blond haired man approach him.

             
“Are we stopping?”  Coran asked the man.               “Difficult stretch of the river.”  Storvik snorted.  “They want to take it slow.  Difficult for those who have no idea what they are doing is what I say.”

             
“That is just great,” Coran said frustrated at the slower pace.

             
“You are not alone in that feeling.  We are all eager to get to the fighting.”

             
Coran didn’t bother to correct the man’s misunderstanding of his mood.  He was not eager to fight.  He just wanted to reach Katelyn before it was too late. 

             
Coran yawned, still feeling tired.  “I am going below,” he announced.

             
He went to the cabin he shared with Storvik, who had remained on deck. 

Chapter 40

Betrayed

              There was still no word from Holdon.  The latest word on the Voltians was that what was left of their army was gathering along the Sone River north of Vosburg.  What they planned to do was a mystery.  Strangely enough a report had come in saying that a party of them had been seen in northern Taragon, heading west.  How many was in dispute.  If it was a force intending to join up with Elthzidor they needed to know.  That was just one of the reasons that Katelyn was worried.  It wasn’t just the fate of the army gathered here that worried her, but the fate of all the West if they should fall. 

             
She turned away from watching the swift flowing river from the top of the bluff thirty yards above and headed back to the camp.  She walked among the tents of the gathered armies.  Startled men moved out of her way and she left a wake of kneeling soldiers.  Her soldiers, as odd as that thought was to her. 

             
Martin appeared in front of her from out of nowhere.  He had that ability at times.  There was another man with him.  No, a boy who was maybe seventeen who dropped to his knees in front of her.  A boy?  She shook her head ruefully at the thought since seventeen would make him a year older than her.

             
“This is Josif,” Martin started to explain.  “He has already expressed his desire to join the Knights of Soros.  Under the circumstances I thought that speed was essential.  I have tested him and found him worthy.”

             
She understood.  The young man wanted to be a Knight before they went into battle and Martin saw something in him to warrant it done.  Normally, the ceremony of becoming a Knight would take place at Summerhall, and involve specific rituals, but that luxury was not available to them.  She looked over the young man who knelt at her feet noting his determined gaze.              

             
“Do you swear your life and loyalty to the throne of Summerhall, and to me, until death?” she asked in a formal tone.  It was not the exact wording, but it would do here.

             
“I swear.  With all my being I swear,” he answered with a great deal of enthusiasm. 

             
“Then I name you Josif, a true Knight of Soros,” she intoned. “You may rise.”

             
Josif got to his feet with an expression of pure contentment on his face.  He bowed to her again, more deeply, and walked away in a happy daze. 

             
“Thank you,” Martin said appreciably.

             
“It was no trouble,” she insisted then continued through the camp with the Commander.

             
They neared the center of the camp where the large tent was erected for the use of planning the battle.  The two banners were still planted out front.  They hung half limp in the slight breeze.  She was about to duck into the tent when a commotion was heard behind her.  She turned to the lane between the row of tents to see a long column of horsemen riding in by threes.  She caught sight of the banner at the front.  It bore two crossed swords.  A frown grew on her face as she noticed who one of the men was in the van of the column.  Straightening, she moved to a spot directly in front of the two banners of the sun to wait.

             
Lord Nevil Digala reined in a few feet away and dismounted in order to kneel.  “Your Majesty.  I must apologize for not arriving sooner.  There is no excuse for it.”

             
She looked at the Lord with his head bowed low.  “Rise, Lord Nevil.  I had not expected you at all, so this is a pleasant surprise.”  She said it coolly.  In truth there was no excuse for refusing her summons, and certainly no excuse for not even sending an explanation.  Nevil swallowed noticeably as he stood.  “I will enjoy hearing the reasons for your belated arrival later.”

             
Nevil backed away.  “I will see that my men find a place to camp.”               

             
“A wonderful idea,” she replied without looking at him.  Her gaze was on the very uncomfortable Devon, who was twisting in his saddle trying to avoid her eyes.  She waited for Nevil to leave and the column of men to follow.  There was a young girl riding next to Nevil who watched her with open curiosity until she was too far away. 

             
Katelyn pointed to a spot directly in front of her.  “Here.  Now.”

             
The young man from Anders sighed as he slowly slid out of the saddle to stand where she was pointing.  “I can explain.” 

             
“This better be good,” she said threateningly.  “And you had better start by saying that he is all right, or else.”

             
“He is.  The last time I saw him.  But I am sure he is still well.”  He added the last quickly when her gaze turned frosty.

             
She looked at him for a moment then rolled her eyes.  “Come on.  We can discuss this away from prying ears,” she said and he looked about them at the soldiers among the tents who were watching.

             
She led him to another tent that had been set up for her personal use.  Actually, she shared it with Alys.  She could have slept in Stockton, but refused for the same reason she declined to stay in any of the inns they had passed on the way here.

             
The tent was divided into two rooms by a curtain.  Behind the curtain two narrow cots were set up for her and Alys.  Speaking of the girl, Alys was sitting on some cushions off to one side.  There was a table and a chair along with a few more cushions in the tent.  The cushions were her one luxury.                 

             
Alys jumped up at the sight of Devon and started to go to him, but then stopped.  She seemed unsure how far their relationship had gone.  Devon settled the issue by crossing the intervening space and hugging her tightly for a moment.

             
“I hate to break up the reunion, but I want to know why you are here and Coran is not,” Katelyn stated and crossed her arms in front of her.

             
“Coran isn’t with you?” Alys asked in alarm as she stepped back.

             
“No. But as I said I can explain.”

             
“Then do so,” Katelyn ordered.  It was definitely meant to be an order.              

             
“Everything went fine until we reached Fisherton.  That was when we ran into Naras and his ugly friend.”  He repeated the conversation they had about the attacks in Westland, Naras’ responsibility for Grendin and Gorod, and about a spy being someone close to them.  “So we left him in the town’s custody.”  His face turned into a frown.  “On the way back we stopped to pick him up, but it was too late.  He had escaped.”

             
“That still does not explain why you are here and Coran is not,” she stated again.

             
“I am getting to that.  We went to Northwatch to follow up on the information and found the guy, Irne.”

             
“So you went to Lord Nevil with it and then to find his niece?” she asked.  It was what she would have done.

             
“Not exactly,” he replied wincing.  “We kind of thought that the idea was to keep Nevil from crossing into the North with an army.”

             
“What did you do?”  Alys asked anxiously. 

             
“Yes, what did you do?”  Katelyn reiterated suspiciously.              

             
“Well, we thought it would settle everything if we went and got her ourselves.  It worked too.”

             
She couldn’t even sigh.  “How many were there?” 

             
“Only eight.  It was no trouble really.”

             
Devon saying something was no trouble did not really fill her with confidence.  “Then what?”

             
“One of us had to take her back before Nevil decided not to wait any longer.  A good thing too.  I met him near the border.”

             
“So Coran went on alone,” she stated the fact.  “I should have known he would do something like that.”

             
“So you are not angry with me?”  Devon asked her, sounding a little relieved.

             
“I did not say that.  You should have stayed with him, or at least gone after him.”  That was not fair to Devon, but she didn’t care.  He was here and Coran was who knew where.

             
“He will be all right,” Devon said and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.   

             
By Alys’s face Katelyn could tell she did not share the sentiment. 

              Alys knelt and straightened the blankets of their cots.  Then she stood and went to the outer room of the tent.  She jumped at seeing someone already in there.  Devon was out checking with the men who had arrived from Anders.  He would be leading them in the coming battle.  Katelyn was with Martin doing whatever it was that leaders do.  She did not know what.  Only that they had taken horses.  So it was a surprise that someone should be in the tent. 

             
“Daughter,” Lord Meneroe greeted her briskly.  “It is good to see you again so soon.”  He looked around the sparsely furnished tent.  “I hear that you sleep in the same tent as the Queen.  That could bring you all kinds of interesting opportunities.”  A smirk was on his face as he stepped towards her. 

             
“What do you want?  You should not be in here,” she protested, but it did no good.  Not with her father.

             
He was looking at her pants and the shirt in a man’s design.  “Does this represent what you have been learning at court?  These are not clothes for a proper young lady.”

             
“They are only for riding,” she explained quickly.  She did not want him to know that she was learning to use a sword too. 

             
He nodded, unconcerned by her choice in wardrobes.  That made her worry all the more.  “I am here because you can do the family a service.”

             
She shook her head frantically.  “I already told you where Coran was, please do not ask any more.”

             
“Please?  Is this the way I raised you?  You are a Meneroe.  You will do what I tell you to do.”  He grabbed her arm and twisted.  She stifled a squeal.  “Are you going to help me?”

             
“Yes.  Yes,” she said in pain.  He let go.  “What do you want me to do?”

             
“I want you to get the Queen away from the camp.  There is an old road, more like a trail that goes south towards an old bridge that spans the river.  Think of a way to get her there.”

             
“Are...Are you going to hurt her?” she asked in a small voice.

             
“If you bring her there like I ask than I think she can remain unharmed.  I cannot make any promises though.”

             
“I cannot,” she decided defiantly.              

             
“That is a shame,” he said regretfully.  “I guess that she will have to find out that you told where Coran was going.  Do you think she would like to know that you were the cause of his death?”

             
“Death?” she exclaimed.  “What do you mean?”

             
“I passed on the information to someone who wanted him dead.  He was very pleased.   And very eager to follow up on the information.  Will you help me now?”  He waited, and watched her reaction.  When she didn’t answer right away he went on.  “Then there is that young man of yours.  Devon I believe his name is.  It would be a shame if anything were to happen to him.”

             
Alys stared at her father in horror.  She knew that he never made idle threats.  She didn’t have to ask what he might do, or how he might accomplish it.  “I will find a way to do what you ask.” 

             
“Good.  I will see you there,” he said and pushed the tent flap out of his way in leaving.

             
Alys sank down onto one of the cushions in abject misery.

              Katelyn rode next to Commander Martin out of the camp by the road they had first entered it.  They circled around to the north side of the defensive perimeter where another sort of camp had been made.  Men wearing coats and pants, mainly of leather, were moving about their own fires.  The clothes they wore were in several shades of brown and greens.  She could imagine them fading into the ground or forest.  The men looked up to watch them ride by.

             
“These are the volunteers,” Martin explained.  “They are not suited for the discipline of joining a unit, but they have other skills that are useful.  They are hunters mostly, woodsmen and men of the mountains.  They know how to move without being seen.”