In Treachery Forged (The Law of Swords) (4 page)

By the time Maelgyn crossed the border from the royal province into his father’s land of Rubick, the news was spreading. Sycanth province had fallen without even having a chance to put up a serious fight and Svieda Castle was already under siege. So far, the Sho’Curlas army appeared to have halted its advance at the castle, but it wasn’t likely to stay still for long. While much of Sho’Curlas’ million man army was devoted towards holding its borders and occupying its lesser allies, the attacking force was immense – large enough to divide into several smaller armies – so even if the siege took years they would continue pushing into Svieda.

That the castle was holding off the siege was a small miracle even with Nattiel’s leadership. As long as the castle siege occupied Sho’Curlas forces, there was a chance that Svieda could muster an army sufficient to stabilize the borders and hold the remaining Sviedan provinces for a time. A vigorous defense, in this war of attrition, might be enough: If the cost of taking Svieda was made too dear, Sho’Curlas might be persuaded to abandon the war and sue for peace. At least, that was the hope.

Following a practice recommended by the post couriers, Maelgyn had traded his original steed for two fresher horses. They explained he would be able to ride longer and faster by periodically changing between them to allow the other horse to freshen up. Unfortunately, one horse had been killed by a dreadful fall, stumbling on a hole in the road and impaling itself on a signpost. Maelgyn had been horrified by the accident, but was otherwise unharmed himself. Nonetheless, the loss of a horse was significantly delaying his progress.

He was two weeks into Rubick before he heard anything more on the war. He was just sitting down to eat at a traveler’s lodge when a rider from the messenger’s service stormed inside, demanding food.

“It’s been a long ride,” the messenger snapped. “And I bring vital information on the war.”

“Tell us,” the innkeeper demanded.

“Well... we’re holding our own, so far,” the messenger explained. “We feared the castle would have fallen by now, but so far it has held its own. Nattiel’s defense has been such a thorn in Sho’Curlas’ side that they’ve yet to divert any portion of their armies to securing the rest of the countryside.”

“So they haven’t done anything since taking Sycanth and besieging the castle?” the innkeeper asked incredulously.

“There have been some raids on farming villages, all within a few hours of Svieda Castle. Probably just setting up supply lines while they buckle down for a long siege,” the messenger replied.

“Are we going to be able to save the castle?” another traveler asked.

The messenger shrugged. “Swords Arnach and Brode have returned to their provinces, and have rallied the armies of Happaso and Glorest. They may be able to mount some sort of counter strike.”

Maelgyn knew that there wasn’t much Brode or Arnach could do to lift the siege from Svieda Castle, but with the extra time they could form a defensive line to contain the invasion for a time. Still making his way across Rubick a week later, Maelgyn learned that his father’s regent already had made plans and was marching several infantry divisions eastward to join up with Arnach’s and Brode’s defense. Maelgyn witnessed militia forces drilling in the village greens, preparing to repel any attackers. He knew it would be a futile gesture if any serious effort were made to take such small towns, but the fact that the people of the kingdom were keeping up hope and rising to meet the challenge of this war encouraged him.

With the early successes, there was a quiet confidence building. Speculation came out about which of the Swords would win this war and become the new Sword King: Arnach and Brode the most prominent, or Sword Prince Wybert of Largo who controlled the largest navy. Some even speculated about Sword Princess Idril of Stanget. She had publically sworn revenge when King Gilbereth’s sister, the Sword of Sycanth, was captured and publically executed early in the war – as the only two women among the living Swords, they had been especially close. As he continued moving westwards, though, the talk changed. Svieda castle had been taken. It was no longer “Which Sword will win the war for us?” but rather “Will we survive this war?”

Chapter 3

Sullen faces and low voices told Maelgyn something was wrong as soon as he entered the inn. A tavern bard sat at one of the tables, his lute stowed, listening intently to a grim faced merchant rather than plying his trade. Maelgyn caught bits of the conversation as he sought a table in the corner to sit at and order a meal.

“… and the castle has fallen.” Maelgyn shook his head silently, thinking of his father. With the fall of the castle, he was likely dead... and the Law of Swords was now in effect.

Following a disastrous war of succession early in Svieda’s history, laws were crafted to prevent conflict among those in line for the throne in the event that the king died unexpectedly. Once the Royal Swords had been commissioned. As Troubuxet’s fatal final lesson explained, these laws were collectively known as the “Law of Swords.” There were many statutes and provisions in the Law of Swords, but the pertinent ones were only to be invoked upon the violent death of the King and the capture of his Sword: Each of Svieda’s provinces had equal standing with the others, and their Swords may act on behalf of the entire kingdom. Placement in the line of succession barely mattered – any of the Swords could lay claim the throne by re-taking the Castle of Svieda. The only reason the line of succession still mattered was that, if two or more Swords co-operated to reclaim the throne, whoever was highest would take it. And any infighting between the Swords would result in the violent expulsion of the offender from the Swords. Maelgyn might wind up King, after all.

Probably not, however. Brode seemed the most likely, as it was his and Arnach’s armies which were most likely to reclaim the throne. Maelgyn didn’t even want the throne, anyway – he still sometimes felt overwhelmed at the idea that he would be ruling over Sopan.

“What will it be, sir?” a young barmaid asked quietly, showing neither the flirtation nor the impatience he’d come to expect as the two customary options. “We’ve some stew, or mutton, but the mutton’s reheated from yesterday. Two silvers. Brown bread with either, but drink is extra.”

“The stew, then, and ale. And such news as is to be had today, if you don’t mind sharing it.”

The barmaid shook her head. “Word is that Largo’s fleets suffered something fierce, with but a few of its hundreds of ships returning from its latest battle with the Oden Navy, but at least some escaped, and Oden’s fleet was hit pretty hard as well. Worse news, sir, is that none of our people escaped Svieda castle before the fall – many were killed, and any survivors have, at best, been taken to prisons we don’t know the location of. No mistake, sir, the folk here are worried.”

“My thanks,” he said, adding an extra half-silver to the coins he handed her, before she walked off to gather his meal. The naval battle was old news, but the word – or lack thereof – on survivors from Svieda Castle was distressing. Maelgyn swallowed the fear for his father and glanced thoughtfully around the room, listening to threads of conversation for a distraction.

“Where is Wybert, anyway?” the merchant was saying. “Where was he when the battle took place?” The merchant seemed frustrated, Maelgyn observed, but the bard just shook his head. “Even the folks out at Largo Castle don’t seem to know.”

Maelgyn had just come from Largo Castle, however, and knew Wybert’s disappearance was a false rumor. Wybert had been with the fleet during its battle, but was badly wounded. He had lost one leg and was in danger of losing the other. An enemy catapult had hurled a massive stone at his flagship and took his leg clean off, sending splinters flying all around him. Several imbedded themselves deep into his remaining leg, one giving him a nasty gash on his forehead. Thankfully, Svieda’s doctors were far ahead of most of the world when it came to medicine and surgery and his life had been saved. New innovations, such as the cleaning and sterilizing of medical equipment and certain herbal medicines, would prevent most infections. The only real fear was whether his other leg was too damaged to be saved. Nevertheless, it seemed unlikely Wybert would be an active participant in the rest of the war.

Only twelve ships of the once proud First and Second Fleets of Svieda returned to port in salvageable condition. Several others had survived, but would have to be scrapped because the damage was too severe. It was not a total defeat, however – the Oden Navy was ravaged in the battle. Only enough ships remained to blockade the port cities of Largo, Glorest, Stanget, and Leyland. While the capitals of several Sviedan provinces were closed off, some smaller ports remained open.

Maelgyn knew the fleet docked in Sopan Province was actually powerful enough to lift any of the blockades, but he couldn’t let them know of the need until he reached his new home. Sword Prince Wybert, who when Maelgyn arrived was conscious and in fairly good health, considering, warned him against attempting a trip by sea. It was possible his earlier message had made it despite the weather and the hostile warships, but there were no longer any courier ships to take him to Sopan. “You might be able to find a fishing boat out of a small town that could get you there,” Wybert cautioned. “It’s a long trip by sea, though, and most of what you’ll find are open boats. That’s a fairly long trip for an open boat, especially when we can’t be completely sure our enemies don’t have a patrol at sea looking for you. You probably wouldn’t survive the trip.”

Maelgyn looked grimly into his own tankard of ale, thinking about his recent visit with Wybert. Wybert’s incapacity was being kept secret, for the moment, and thankfully so was his own presence. Maelgyn was waiting, now, to see if Wybert could provide any intelligence for the trip to Sopan, and a messenger should be arriving soon with the report and a set of maps. With the naval route closed, the only way to Sopan would be overland – either over the treacherous mountains in the Dwarven Kingdom of Mar’Tok or the much longer route around the mountains through the Bandi Republic and down the Orful River.

That messenger arrived just as Maelgyn started thinking about him. Spying the unobtrusive seat on the other side of Maelgyn’s table, the messenger hurried over to meet him. Maelgyn winced at the messenger’s crisply formal attire, realizing other heads must already be turning to see who in the small inn might be the recipient of a royal courier’s attention.

“Well?” Maelgyn asked.

“Here. There’s a lot for you to read in there, but I’ll sum up what you probably most want to know right now,” the messenger said quietly. “Wybert is... somewhat obsessive following his defeat. Brode, Arnach, and whoever it is running Rubick’s armies have combined their forces, forming a line that should be able to hold against Sho’Curlas. The two largest armies in recorded history will be meeting before too long, but it’ll be a long campaign – they have untapped resources the likes of which we could only dream of. Wybert knows that we’ll need every soldier we can get our hands on, and so is unwilling to release even a few soldiers to act as your escort. He will return your horse and give you any other supplies you might want, however.”

“That’s acceptable,” Maelgyn answered diplomatically. “Since I don’t have any guards, I’ve been trying to travel incognito.”

He looked pointedly at the messenger’s uniform before continuing. “I’m quite capable of protecting myself if the need arises. It’s probably best that I not draw men away from where they can actually do some good, and it’s easier to travel in secret without a large contingent of soldiers following me.”

“You may think differently once you’ve read that report,” the messenger replied. “Normally, I think, your best bet would be to go around the mountains, to travel through the Bandi Republic to the Orful River, and then take the short boat trip down-river. However, the Bandi Republic lost its access to the Orful River in an ongoing border war with one of its neighbors. The fighting on that border is so fierce that Wybert doesn’t think you should risk traveling through Bandi at all. Instead, Wybert recommends you cross the Mar’Tok Mountains, going through the Dwarven lands to do so. It’ll be dangerous, but probably less so than walking through the front lines in Bandi’s little war or trying to make it on an open boat.”

Maelgyn sighed. “I was afraid of that. It means at least one, possibly two river crossings and one mountain crossing, but I suppose I can do it.” He pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to the man. “I prepared for this possibility and gave it some thought. I need you to get this list to the castle’s quartermaster; that’s what I’m going to need for the journey. I’ll be there tomorrow to pick it all up.”

The messenger glanced over the list briefly and nodded. Maelgyn hadn’t put anything Largo wouldn’t have in excess on the list, so there shouldn’t be any problems. “Very good, Your Highness. I’ll see he gets this right away, and good luck.”

No sooner had the messenger departed than the barmaid returned with another tankard of ale – now with a significantly friendlier expression. She had also straightened her hair, he observed, and adjusted her bodice to reveal a bit more cleavage.

“Your ale... my lord?”

“Thanks,” he said in a resigned voice, this time adding two full silvers to his bill.

Maelgyn had two horses with him once again. The second horse was a simple pack animal, but it would do. Wybert couldn’t afford to release a horse that might serve in battle, and Maelgyn wouldn’t ask him to. The news of Wybert’s injuries had been officially announced just as Maelgyn was leaving, as was the news that he was instituting a draft. Wybert planned to draft a new army, spend three months training it, and then send it and half of the existing Largo army to the front line. The draftees, who were not expected to be fully trained by that point, would be used as a reserve force as they completed their training.