Shards of a Broken Crown (4 page)

“Grandfather
and Grandmother?” asked Jimmy.

“Yes,”
said Dash. “When he’s alone and thinks I don’t
notice, he broods. He knows there was nothing he could do, but he
silently rages about it. I hope once spring comes and we start the
campaign he’ll snap out of it, but he’s drinking more
than he used to and seems withdrawn most of the time.”

When Jimmy said
nothing, Dash glanced at his brother and saw his chin on his chest,
his eyes half-closed as he fought to remain awake. Dash quietly stood
up and moved to the door. He took a long look at his brother, and for
a moment saw an echo of their dead grandmother in his features, the
pale skin and nearly white blond hair. Finding a tear coming unbidden
to his eyes, Dash quickly left, silently closing the door behind,
while he said a silent prayer of thanks to Ruthia, the Goddess of
Luck, for the safe return of his brother.

“Erik!”

Dash turned to
see Rosalyn hurrying down the corridor, and stood aside to let the
young woman pass. Dash knew the girl felt overwhelmed at times by
being the mother of the next Baron—she was Gerd’s mother
because of her rape at the hands of Erik’s half-brother—and
Erik was her closest friend. They had been like brother and sister as
children, and he was the first person she turned to when in distress.
Dash watched as she came to the Captain’s door and started
knocking.

Erik opened the
door and said, “What?”

Dash hesitated a
moment, then continued to walk past as Rosalyn said, “It’s
the Baroness. She’s refusing to let me bathe my own son! It’s
just one more thing she’s taken from me! Do something!”

Dash stopped and
said, “Excuse me.”

Both Erik and
Rosalyn turned to the young man. “Yes?” asked Erik.

“I
hesitate to intrude on the basis of overhearing a conversation I’m
not party to, but to avoid any embarrassment, may I make an
observation?”

“What?”
said Rosalyn.

“Given her
somewhat. . . forceful nature, the Dowager Baroness has actually been
rather leisurely in acquainting your son with his new office.”

Rosalyn shook
her head. She had been a pretty girl growing up in Ravensburg with
Erik, but the birth of two children, hard work in her husband’s
bakery, and the travail of the recent war had put premature grey in
her hair and robbed her face of the softness Erik had known in his
youth. Her eyes were now hard, and she was leery of hearing anything
from Dash that would further remove her from her son.

“Gerd is
now Baron von Darkmoor,” said Dash, trying to be patient and
instructive without sounding patronizing. Rosalyn might be an
untutored common woman, but she wasn’t stupid. “For the
rest of his life, many of the things you did for him will be done by
servants. Had you been Baroness, you would never have bathed him, nor
changed his diapers, nor perhaps even nursed him.

“It’s
time for you to begin his education as Baron.” Dash waved
around, indicating the castle. “This is now the frontier of the
Kingdom, until the West is retaken, and may continue to be a critical
stronghold for years, far into Gerd’s adulthood. Gerd is almost
five years old, and soon will spend most of his day with tutors and
instructors. He needs to learn to read, to write, the history of his
people, riding, weapons, court protocol. . .”

Erik nodded,
putting his hand on Rosalyn’s shoulder. “Dash is right.”
The young woman looked defiant and Erik felt her shoulder tense under
his hand. He smiled. “But there’s no reason you can’t
stand nearby and watch as the servants care for him.”

Rosalyn said
nothing for a moment, then nodded and turned off to retrace her steps
to where her son was housed in the Baron’s quarters of the
castle. Erik watched her retreating back, then turned to Dash.
“Thanks for pointing things out.”

“I
hesitated to insert myself into your conversation, but it’s
only the truth.”

Erik glanced
down the hall to the corner where Rosalyn had turned out of sight and
let his eyes fix on the distant space. “So many changes. We all
have so much to adjust to.”

Dash said,
“Again, I don’t mean to presume, Captain, but if you
require any assistance . . .”

Erik smiled. “I
suspect I will. And I will count on you and your brother. If you
haven’t heard yet, you’re both being assigned to my
command.”

“Oh?”
said Dash.

“It’s
your father’s idea. He’s going to take a hand personally
in this coming campaign.”

Dash nodded.
“He’s his father’s son.”

Erik said, “I
didn’t know your grandfather well, I must say, but well enough
to know that’s a compliment.”

Dash grinned.
“If you had known him better, you might not think so. Ask my
mother if she ever decides to return to the West.”

“Anyway,”
continued Erik, “the King has his hands full in the East, with
most of his army absent and his navy sunk, in keeping the Eastern
Kingdoms from starting trouble. The Prince has Kesh in the South, so
that leaves it to our merry little band to reclaim the West.”

“Why does
that not fill me with joy?” asked Dash rhetorically.

“I believe
you would be in need of a healing priest if it did. You would
obviously be bereft of your senses.”

“When does
this campaign begin?” asked Dash.

“When you
hear the first sound of ice breaking in the West, start packing.”

Dash said, “I
heard ice break this morning.”

“Well, get
packing,” said Erik. “We leave for Krondor within the
week.”

Dash nodded.
“Very good, Captain.”

As Dash turned
away, Erik said, “One other thing.”

“What,
sir?” asked Dash.

“Your
office as Court Baron does you no good in the army, so you and James
are both being given the rank of Knight-Lieutenants.”

“Thank
you, I think,” said Dash.

“Tomorrow
head down to the quartermaster and draw uniforms for yourself and
James.”

“Sir,”
said Dash with a weak salute, then he turned and walked toward his
own quarters. Muttering to himself, he said, “Damn. I’m
in the army.”

Jimmy tugged at
his ill-fitting black tunic. “Damn. I’m in the army.”

Dash laughed. He
gently elbowed his brother, indicating the Prince was about to speak.

“My lords,
gentlemen,” he began, addressing the gathering in his audience
hall, formerly the Baron von Darkmoor’s. “The King
requires the presence of most of the Army of the East along the
Keshian border and to the east. That leaves it to what is left of the
Armies of the West to drive the remaining invaders from our shores.”

Dash whispered
to his brother, “Perhaps we shouldn’t have sunk all their
ships. It makes the trip home so much more difficult.”

Arutha, Duke of
Krondor, threw his younger son a dark look, and Dash fell silent,
while Jimmy attempted not to laugh aloud. One thing James admired
about his younger brother was an ability to find something funny in
almost any situation, no matter how bleak.

Prince Patrick
said, “Of course it does,” looking directly at Dash.

Dash had the
good grace to blush before his Prince.

“But we
can arrange to transport them home at a later time. First they must
surrender.”

Dash tried to
wish himself invisible.

Patrick
continued. “Intelligence confirms that this General Fadawah is
seizing the opportunity created by the Emerald Queen’s defeat
to fashion a little Empire for himself.”

He walked to a
map and took a pointer and indicated the area between Krondor and
Ylith. “From Sarth to Ylith, Fadawah’s forces are in
complete control.” The pointer swept to the east. ‘ “They
control the forests up to the mountains, and most of the passes to
Nightmare Ridge. We have a stable front along the ridge.

“To the
north”—the pointer moved north of Ylith— “he’s
run into some stern opposition at LaMut. Earl Takari’s holding
the city, but barely. Only the harsh winter kept Fadawah from taking
the city.” Looking at Arutha, he said, “Tell me of Duke
Carl.”

Arutha said,
“The Duke is a boy. He’s barely seventeen. Earl Takari is
only three years older.”

The men in the
room knew the fathers of the two nobles mentioned had died in the
invasion. Arutha continued, “But Takari is Tsurani stock, and
has been studying under his Swordmaster since he could walk. He’ll
hold LaMut until the last man if needs be.

“Carl may
be a boy, but he’s surrounded by a strong, if small, army.”
Arutha nodded to a man standing behind Erik von Darkmoor, a tall,
dark-haired man wearing a kilt and sporting a longsword hung over his
back. Dash and Jimmy knew him to be the leader of a company of Hadati
hillmen from Yabon, by name of Akee.

Akee said, “Most
of my people are serving in Yabon. Fadawah will not take Yabon.”

Almost to
himself Patrick said, “But come spring he’ll be inside
the walls of LaMut, and all the Tsurani honor in that city won’t
keep him from doing it.” Patrick was silent a moment, dien
said, “Can Duke Carl’s forces save LaMut?”

“Yes,”
said Owen. “If we can assume we’ll have no trouble from
the Brotherhood of the Dark Path”—he used the common term
for the moredhel, the dark elves who lived to the north—”and
count on the elves and dwarves, and the Free Cities keeping the
western front stable, then Carl can strip his garrison, leaving what
he must along his eastern flank, and move the bulk of his men south
to LaMut. He should be able to hold Fadawah under those
circumstancs.”

“If he
does, can he then retake Ylith?” asked Patrick.

Akee glanced at
Erik and Arutha, both of whom nodded to him. Akee looked at Patrick
and said, “No, he cannot. He would need three times the number
of swords he has at his call to stand a chance of retaking Ylith. He
can hold where he is, unless this General Fadawah turns his entire
force northward—which he won’t do if he’s moving
soldiers south to hold Krondor—but Duke Carl cannot retake
Ylith.”

“My lords
and gentlemen,” said the Prince, “LaMut is, by necessity,
die anvil.” He looked at Owen Greylock and said, “My Lord
Marshal, your army must by needs be the hammer.”

Owen said, “It’s
a small hammer, Patrick.”

The Prince said,
“Indeed, but Kesh is arrayed in force along our southern
border, what’s left of our fleet is keeping Queg and die Durbin
pirates at bay, and some of the eastern kings are getting ambitious.
You’ll have to make do with your current force.”

Owen said,
“That’s barely twenty thousand men, against how many? A
hundred thousand?”

Patrick said,
“We can’t just let them keep what they’ve taken
until we resolve these other issues, can we?”

His question was
greeted by silence.

Patrick looked
from face to face in the room. “I’m not ignorant of the
flaws of my own ancestors. We took every inch of land from somebody
else to make the Western Realm. Only Yabon joined the Kingdom
willingly, and that because we saved them from the Brotherhood of the
Dark Path, else they would have fallen.

“But the
only reason there’s a Baron von Darkmoor in the first place is
the bandit ancestor of your own Captain Erik was too tough a nut to
crack, and it was easier to make him a Kingdom noble and let him keep
the land he had already taken than it was to kill him and put some
king’s idiot nephew here in his place.” Patrick’s
voice began to rise. “And several other accommodations have
been made over the years, allowing former enemies to become valued
vassals.” Now his voice was raised to the point of yelling.
“But I’ll be damned to the Seventh Hell if I let some
murdering bastard set himself up as ‘King of the Bitter Sea’
and rule over my Principality. If Fadawah does, it will be with one
foot on my dead body!”

Dash and James
exchanged glances. They didn’t need to say anything. The
message was clear. Owen Greylock and Erik von Darkmoor, and what
remained of the Armies of the West, would have to retake the
Principality without any outside assistance.

Owen cleared his
throat. Patrick glanced at his Knight-Marshal of Krondor and said,
“Yes?”

“Is there
anything else, Highness?”

Patrick was
silent a long moment, then said, “No.” To the men in the
room he said, “My lords and gentlemen, you are all under
Marshal Greylock’s command from this moment on. Treat his
orders as if they are my own.”

He lowered his
voice. “And may the gods smile on us,” he said. And left.

The nobles in
the room began muttering comments to one another, then Owen said, “My
lords!”

Silence returned
to the hall.

Greylock said,
“We move in the morning. I expect to have advanced units in
Ravensburg by nightfall, and scouts to the walls of Krondor by the
end of the week.” He glanced from face to face, then said, “You
know what to do.”

The men began to
file out of the room, and Erik came to stand before Dash and James.
“You’re with me,” he said, turning and walking
toward a small door off to one side.

The brothers
found their father waiting in the room already, and in a moment
Greylock entered, closing the door behind. “I just wanted to
let you two know,” said Owen, addressing the brothers, “that
you’re going to be given the dirtiest, most thankless job we’ve
got.”

Dash smiled.
“Smashing!”

Jimmy threw his
brother a dark look, and said, “What is it?”

“Jimmy,
you’re in charge of our special advance unit.”

“Special
advance unit?” asked Jimmy.

Arutha nodded.
“Him,” he said, pointing to Dash.

Dash rolled his
eyes heavenward but said nothing. He had long ago accustomed himself
to being under his older brother’s direction whenever they were
working together.

Arutha said,
“Owen said he needed a couple of sneaky bastards to operate
behind enemy lines.” He smiled at his sons. “I told him
your parentage wasn’t in doubt, but that you were sneaky enough
for the job.”