Sword and the Spell 01: The Grey Robe (25 page)

“The way I heard it, it was you who cut him down,” put
in Rastor. Borman glared at him for his interruption.

“My brother blasphemed, so Talis, the one true god,
may his name be praised, guided my hand and destroyed the heretic and his
magician. Talis, may he rule forever, still guides my hand so that I may
destroy all those who corrupt the kingdoms by their use of magic, such as you
do, King Borman.”

Rastor moved his hand to where his sword should have
been and began to rise at another of Tallison’s implied threats but Borman
waved him down. “It’s true, I do keep a magician but only to counter the threat
of Maladran’s evil. If Sarrat and Maladran were dead then together we could rid
the six kingdoms of all magic.”

“You would give your magician to me?”

Borman glanced at the cage. “The day Sarrat and
Maladran die Callabris and his protector will be delivered into your hands for
you to deal with as you wish.”

Tallison gave an evil grin showing brown pointed
teeth. “And what about the lands and wealth of Leersland?”

“We’ll share Leersland between us. You will have the
rich pasture land south of Tarmin with the finest horse herds in the six
kingdoms and unrestricted access to the Blue River. I will have Tarmin and the
farms and mountains of the north and Talis will have the worship of all the
people.”

“That would please the one true god, may his word live
forever. However such a move would mean that his blessed warriors would have to
walk on the same ground that has been defiled by the footsteps of those that
use the evil of magic to their own ends. Talis, may his name be praised, will
not permit this.”

“I understand your concern for the eternal souls of
your brave warriors and would not wish for them to be corrupted by magic’s evil.
Therefore I will supply you with enough horses so that your warrior’s feet do
not have to touch the ground where magic has been practiced. I will also supply
you with enough swords to overcome the power of any amount of spells. Just ask Prince
Kremin. He will avow to the quality of the ten war horses and the iron weapons I
have brought as gifts to arm your men and they are only a sample to show you my
true intentions.

Prince Kremin stood and joined his father. “The
stallions are very fine and the weapons are strong and true, but they are
insufficient to protect all our warriors from the evil of Sarrat’s ungodly
land.”

“They are just the first of many gifts. When I return
to Northshield I will send all the horses and weapons you will ever need to
make Leersland your own.”

“That may be difficult,” interrupted Kremin. “I
understand that the King of Tarbis is reluctant for such things to pass across
his lands in case they are turned against him and his people.”

Borman gave a small smile of triumph. “You have not
heard then? King Hormand has met with an unfortunate accident and whilst Prince
Newn is certainly a difficult young man his regent is more reasonable. What’s
more he is a relative of mine. I don’t think it will be difficult to find a way
to get him to co-operate.”

“If you were to give the horses and weapons we brought
to your warriors straight away they could start crossing into Leersland and
raid the horse herds,” interjected Rastor who had joined his king. “You could
have large numbers of your warriors mounted and across the border before Sarrat
knew what was happening.”

“And there’s more than just horses to be taken from
Leersland,” continued Borman. “It’s a rich kingdom that keeps unwanted children
as slaves. Such children would make fine gifts for your warriors’ wives.”

“Or even for the beds of your warriors,” said Rastor
with a knowing look at the Prince.

Kremin leaned forward eagerly, “I think Talis, may his
name be praised, would be pleased if some of our young warriors were bloodied
in battle and that the blasphemers were taught to fear his name.”

Tallison looked at his son and gave a sly grin. “Very
well, we’ll take your horses and weapons and we’ll cross the border into
Leersland, but don’t forget, when Sarrat and Maladran are dead Callabris is
mine.”

“I will deliver him to you personally, but until that
time I think it would be a good idea if Prince Isallin remained in my care to
seal our agreement; it will be a good opportunity for the boy to learn about
the other kingdoms.”

Tallison shrugged, “He’s just a younger son and of
little value but as a sign of my trust I will give you this one too.” He
clicked his fingers and a girl, somewhat older than the others who waited on
Tallison, came forward. She had long, dark hair which fell across her face and
a thin body covered in welts and bruises. Borman frowned, not sure why he was
being offered such a gift. “This one is barren and wastes my seed but she has
interesting bloodlines and one or two special gifts which should provide you
with some amusement. I have no further use for her so you may do as you wish
with the girl until you become bored with her. When you have done with her you
may send her back to me so I can pass her onto my guards for their amusement.
Now, if our agreement is to be sealed by you holding something of mine then it
is only fair that I should hold something of value which belongs to you.”

“That’s understandable.” agreed Borman and waved Rothers
towards him. “This is Lord Rothers; he’s my closest relative and heir to the
throne of Northshield. He will stay here as your hostage, it’ll be a good
opportunity for him to learn the word of Talis, may his name be praised.”

Rothers gasped and turned pleading eyes on his king
who had already turned away and was walking towards the door flap followed
closely by a grinning Rastor. He turned back and briefly bowed to Tallison. “We
will be on our way in the morning to make arrangements for the first shipment.”

“You have a long journey ahead of you; perhaps you
would like something to help you sleep?” Tallison pushed another of the young
girls forward. “She’s not a virgin but she’s still inexperienced enough to give
satisfaction, or perhaps you would prefer a boy?”

Borman looked at the girl and shook his head, “Thank
you for your offer, Your Holiness, but tonight I will sleep alone.” He bowed
briefly and pushed his way out of the tent taking a large gulp of fresh air the
moment the door flaps closed behind him. “We leave before the sun is up.”

“Do we take the girl with us?”

“I suppose we must; she might be worth something once
she’s cleaned up and if not you can have her.”

Rastor grinned at his king, “Did you see Rothers face
when you handed him over? I thought he was going to piss himself. I didn’t know
he was your heir though.”

“Don’t be so blasted stupid, do you really think I
would have that fop as my heir?”

“Oh, does that mean you aren’t really going to give
Callabris up to that fanatic?”

“What do you think?” laughed Borman.

Rastor grinned, “If the old bastard had said ‘may his
name be praised’ one more time I swear I would have gutted him with his own
dinner knife.”

~
    
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Pellum
rolled over and stretched lazily feeling warm and contented and pleased with
life. The air in the peaceful stable was deliciously warm and the remains of
last season’s hay reasonably fragrant despite its age. Beneath the hayloft the
horses stood dozing whilst their tales flicked away the odd fly, making gentle
swishing sounds. Sunlight poured in through a high window and a myriad of
multi-coloured dust motes glinted as they floated in and out of the sun's rays.

He eased himself up onto one elbow and looked down the
length of his body. It was strong and muscular and perfectly tanned in those
places which were exposed to the sun every day. In contrast the rest was pale
and unblemished, free from the scars which most men of twenty summers gained
whilst practising at arms. For all that it was a hard body, honed by hunting
and riding and other strenuous but pleasurable activities which the younger
brother to the future King of Essenland could indulge in. It was the sort of
body no girl could resist and so far, none had, except for the one and for some
strange reason he couldn’t get that girl out of his mind.

Slender fingers touched the back of his neck and
traced a delicate line down his spine, making him shudder with anticipation.
The girl giggled and moved closer, her breasts pushing against his back and the
soft fluff of her protective hair rubbing against the base of his spine. Her
tongue tickled his shoulder as she nibbled her way upwards towards his ear,
which she bit with just enough force to make him gasp and lay back again. Now
her lips began to caress his body, following where her hands had already
explored and her hard nipples had stroked. He gave another shudder of
anticipation as his manhood rose in response to her touch and rolled over to
pin her ample body beneath him.

Serving girls were always willing to lay back for him
so why wasn't it the same with the High Lord of Leersland's daughter? Fully
aroused by the thought of the pleasures Tarraquin could give him he closed his
eyes, spread her legs and drove into the serving girl, deaf to her cry of
surprise at his sudden urgency. Outside in the practice yard sword crashed
against sword to the rhythm of a drum and Pellum thrust forward to the same
rhythm, heedless that his other weapon was required to be used elsewhere.

"Prince Pellum, Prince Pellum! If yer up there,
me lord, please come down, Commander Stanis’s goin’ crazy and says 'e'll cut
yer yard off if 'e catches yer usin' it where it sould’na be in 'is practice
time."

Pellum thrust forward quicker and quicker, his body
streaked with sweat and his breath coming in short rasping gasps. He thrust forward
again, held it for a half-hearted ejaculation and then rolled over to lie
panting on the horse blanket with his eyes closed. It was never the same the
second time, especially when he had his mind on other things.

"Is that you, Burk?" he shouted to the young
soldier without opening his eyes or making any effort to move.

"Yes, Me Lord."

"Then tell the poxed Commander to go and stick
his sword up his arse, I've better things to do than swing lumps of metal
around like some common slob just to please him."

"Yes, Me Lord, but......"

"Pellum!" screamed Stanis, pushing Burk to
one side, "Get your royal arse down here before I make the count to three
and if it aint dressed properly I'll have your balls."

Pellum leapt from the horse blanket, ignoring the
crying serving girl in his hurry to pull on his leggings and boots. By the time
Commander Stanis had counted to three Pellum was sliding down the loft ladder,
his sword belt buckled at his side but his shirt and tunic still draped over
his arm. He came to a halt in front of the Commander and stood almost to
attention but not quite. When it came to a reckoning he was, after all, the king's
son whilst the Commander was just a soldier who was good with a sword. Pellum
gave the older man an insolent grin, knowing that Stanis was powerless to take
any action against him except giving him a verbal lashing and that was
painless.

Commander Stanis was red with anger as he eyed the
arrogant prince up and down. "If you were a real soldier I would have you
on double guard duty for a month for missing sword practice. Instead I have to
put up with your lazy, lecherous ways, just because your father is the king.
You mark my words Pellum, one of these days you’re going to come up against
someone, or something, that doesn't care who your father is and then you’re
going to wish you’d learnt to use a sword like a man instead of laying every
slut in the castle. Now get yourself cleaned up and dressed, your father has
summoned you."

Pellum gave a brief bow and sauntered from the stable,
his arrogant smile still etched across his face.

"One of these days," muttered Stanis to
himself in frustration. "One of these days you're going to meet your match
and I hope I’m there to see it."

Pellum made his way across the practice yard whistling
the tune to the latest ditty the court minstrel had composed and used the
servant's stairs to reach his chambers, wanting to avoid any other messengers, or
worse still his father. He’d learnt as a small boy that his father would
forgive him anything and indulge him ruinously if he dressed and acted the part
of the dashing young prince. Consequently Pellum took the time to bathe and
dress carefully before stopping to admire himself in the mirror and then making
his way down to the council chamber.

It had been far too many summers since the rotund King
Porteous had the physical appearance to play the part of a dashing prince
although once, over thirty summers ago, he’d ridden gallantly into a distant
castle and swept his wife-to-be off her feet. If she’d lived to see her child
grow into a man she would have been proud of her noble and handsome son.
Porteous smiled indulgently at the apple of his eye and waved a small parchment
in the air the moment his son entered the council chamber.

"It’s come, it’s come!" he shouted eagerly,
hurrying across the chamber to embrace Pellum. "I knew it would, all our
visits and gifts have paid off just as I said they would. Congratulations, my
boy, it's wonderful news." He embraced his son again and then pushed him
towards the table, laden with pitchers of cider and ale and a dozen different
kinds of pastry. "Now we must start making arrangements immediately so we
can be there in plenty of time, what say you my boy?"

"What can I say, father? To be honest I don't
know what in the goddess’s name you’re talking about."

Porteous stopped in mid bite, his teeth still stuck
into the venison pasty he held in one hand. He waved the parchment in the air
whilst he swallowed the deliciously warm and succulent snack. "This, my
boy, this!" Pellum looked at the rolled parchment with a blank expression.
"It's from my friend Steppen, he’s agreed to your betrothal to the
Princess Daun. Congratulations, my boy, you're to be married."

For a moment Pellum forgot himself and looked at his
father aghast. "You can't mean that, Daun’s only a child!"

"Of course I mean it. Steppen is my oldest friend;
it's a perfect match, my son and his daughter. Besides how else are you going
to find yourself a kingdom?"

"But she's only twelve," snapped Pellum.
"I can't marry a twelve year old."

"She's only twelve now but in four summer’s time
she will be sixteen and a woman and what a woman, she’s the most beautiful
creature in the six kingdoms and she’s going to be yours."

"She may be a beautiful woman but she has a
tongue like a viper and the temper of a wild cat."

"High spirits, my boy, just high spirits. What
she needs is a man to master her and calm her down."

"Then she can marry a sly tamer, because she is
not going to marry me."

Pellum threw himself into a chair, his mouth set in a
thin line and his arms folded across his chest. He didn’t want a she cat for
his wife; in fact he didn’t want any wife, unless of course it was the Lady
Tarraquin. Now there was a high-spirited woman he wouldn’t mind taming.

Porteous waddled across the room and glowered down at
his son. "Pellum, I’m adamant in this," announced the king sternly.
"You will be promised to the Princess Daun and when she is sixteen you
will marry her. It’s my command and you will obey."

Pellum remained unmoved, staring sulkily at his feet.
The king gave a great snort of frustration and anger, raising his voice in an
outraged bellow. "You will do this or I’ll have you locked in the dungeons
until you agree!" Still Pellum's expression remained the same. Porteous
sighed in exasperation and sat down next to his son as if the sigh had let all
the hot air out of him. "Look, boy, this is for your own good. Vinmore is
a very wealthy kingdom and when you marry you would be its king. Please son,
for your father's sake, do as I ask and marry the girl."

His father was right, of course. Vinmore was a very
wealthy kingdom with good grassland for racing horses and coursing hounds and
deep forests for hunting in and he would be its king so he could do as he
wanted; the idea was almost appealing. He looked at his father and smiled.

"For your sake, father, I will do as you ask.
Daun and I will be betrothed as soon as it can be arranged but no marriage
until she is sixteen."

*

"Well, Yer Majesty, it's like this. King
Steppen's been gettin' gifts from all those who fancy bein' next king of
Vinmore an' as yers weren't amongst them 'e must 'ave thought yer weren't
interested any more so 'e's just crossed yer off the list like. Then five days
gone 'e announced to us all that the princess was goin' to be betrothed to Prince
Pellum, the son of 'is old friend, an' there was goin' to be a big feast and
celebrations which we ‘ad to get ready for. So when I 'eard you aint been
invited I thought I'd better let yer know what's goin' on so I said I 'ad to
visit me sick pa an 'ere I am."

Tarris stood with his felt riding cap in his hands and
waited for King Sarrat's reaction. In the six summers he had spied for the king
of Northshield he’d made a tidy profit from the gifts he’d intercepted on the
way from King Sarrat to the princess. He’d been careful though to ensure that
nothing could be traced back to him and had only come to give Sarrat the news
of the betrothal himself so that he could head off any enquiries as to where
Sarrat’s gifts had disappeared to. This was the first time he’d been to his
master's court. It was different than he thought it would be, larger and more
forbidding and not in the least like the pleasant and comfortable palace of
King Steppen.

The palace in Alewinder was made up of numerous
private towers, connected by decorative courtyards and pretty gardens and each
tower was decorated to its inhabitant's individual taste. This castle, on the
other hand, was built around a massive central keep, stone cold and adorned
with weapons and battle flags. Those who served the monarch of Vinmore did so
with pride and affection whilst most of the inhabitants of Leersland's court
seemed to be grim-eyed soldiers or cowering courtiers.

Yet so far he’d found the atmosphere of Sarrat's court
much to his liking; it was alive and exciting instead of peaceful and dull. One
day, if he served his master well, he’d been promised a place of power and
influence amongst Sarrat's closest advisors. Not bad for a kingswards who’d
been abused and abandoned by his drunken father and had to fight for his
survival.

"How dare the bleating old fool ignore me!"
screamed Sarrat, rising from his throne and advancing on Tarris. "How
could the brainless idiot give Vinmore to a half-baked boy with his brains
between his legs when a strong man's hand is needed to bring order to that land
of indolent farmers and arrogant grape growers?"

Tarris stepped back from the rapidly advancing king
but was too late to prevent Sarrat's strong hand grabbing the front of his
jerkin and lifting him almost off his feet. He glared into the Stablemaster’s face.
"Does he think I am just going to sit here and let him insult me like that?"

Tarris would have replied but Sarrat's grip was slowly
cutting off his air supply so instead he struggled feebly to give a choking
cough. Sarrat glared into his eyes and then threw him full length onto the
floor. Tarris scrambled to his knees wringing his crumpled felt hat between his
shaking hands.

"It aint my fault, Yer Majesty, or yours, its
'cause those presents didn't get through to ‘er an’ no one's put your case like
they should 'ave. It's 'cause of that you bin made to look a fool." Tarris
suddenly stopped, realising what he had said and cringed, waiting for Sarrat's
reaction.

"A fool am I," hissed Sarrat sibilantly.
"Is that what people think I am, an old fool who can't court a child, a
doddering old man who's lost his wits? Well I'll show them what I am, with
sword and flame as I should have done long ago if Maladran hadn't set me on
this damn stupid course." He screamed for his guards and pulled his sword
as if he was ready at that moment to do battle with the people of Vinmore.

"It seems ter me, Yer Majesty," said Tarris
from his cringing position on the floor, "It's that, there magician whose
made a fool of yer, an' perhaps 'e's done that for 'is own ends like. Now 'e's
got so powerful an' got rid of the 'igh Lord, perhaps 'e thinks 'e ought to be
king 'ere instead of you."