duty and destiny part 8   by armond   The Battle of Drachill Basin is underway, and the Arcum trap has been sprung. Meanwhile in Glamorgan, the Princesses, including Caden, struggle to ready their people for the fray.

 

---

 
 

 

The Two of Swords represents the fulcrum between the still and moving; it is the hurricane's eye.
 

27.

Well, General? What think you now?"

Gares frowned, when he should be grinning; after all, Parasia had just routed Arcum in their first clash.

The Drachill Basin spread before him; threatening to swallow everything with its vast flatness. Winter’s blight had transformed the plain into depressing gray nothingness. At least spring and summer brought tall green grasses and roaming bison.

Gares scanned the horizon with his “spyglass” trying to extract as much battle intelligence as he could. Even with the makeshift tower his engineers had constructed, the Basin yielded little hard evidence.

The old general sighed, and lowered his distance viewer. He wasn't troubled that his king had ignored his council and ordered the army to engage Arcum’s forces; at his age, his ego simply didn't care. No, what disturbed him was how easily the victory had been — Arcum’s front line collapsed before the Parasian assault, and the entire Arcum army fled south, deeper into the Basin.

He wasn't troubled that his king had ignored his council and ordered the army to engage Arcum’s forces; at his age, his ego simply didn't care. No, what disturbed him was how easily the victory had been — Arcum’s front line collapsed before the Parasian assault, and the entire Arcum army fled south, deeper into the Drachill Basin.

"I say we retire to our side of the border, and wait to see if they try to return for more."

"Gods, man!" King Coel nearly screamed. "Carry the battle to them! Don't let them bring it to you ...isn't that what all great generals do?"

"Sire. We are still not yet at full strength, and many of our recruits don't know a sword's tip from its handle. Let us-"

"-No! I will not let this victory slip away! Order your men to follow!" The king turned turned to one of the many servants that constantly trailed after him; a pudgy lad with bland face. "You, Garvin! Ride to the palace and tell the court to join us on the field."

Gares' jaw dropped. "Sire! This is not a sport to be applauded by coutiers! Men are dying!"

"You saw the Arcum dogs crumble before us; I would not deprive my ministers of the chance to see our army victorious," Coel said, waving him away. "You know, I am glad we will prevail without Glamorgan's help. Though I regret what happened to Prince Caden, at least I shall be able to deal with Rhys from a position of strength."

Gares stood silent long after King Coel had left his side. Then he turned to his attaché.

"Call an emergency meeting of my senior staff, Malcom. For we have new orders to follow."

And a king who is unfit to rule, Gares thought. We must plan what we will do about that, also, or it will be our death.

 

 
28.

“May I suggest a smaller steed, Princess? One more appropriate to your size?”

The formal voice caught her by surprise, causing Caden to look hard on her childhood friend. Her first thought was that if his beard and moustache ever managed to fill in, he would carry a 'gravitas' that would grab people and make them listen.

“Cedrick! It's me! Stop calling me princess! I'm the same person who suffered with you under the odious Sir Willian when we trained as squires.”

“As you wish, ma'am." The young cavalryman’s jaw clinched and he looked down. "Though I fear my brother-in arms who goes by that name is dead.”

Caden blinked away wetness; had she lost her friends too? Would that she could travel alone to her father's hunting lodge in the highlands -as she had countless other times in the past- but Gwyneth told her that, for a young woman, it was not an option.

“Shall I saddle your mount then?” Cerdick said.

Caden's hands clinched into fits. “No one saddles Llamrei but me; no one!”

Cedrick's eyes widened, and Caden thought she saw a glimmer of recognition from her friend, but then he looked down.

“As you wish, ma'am. Call me if you need help.”

"I? Need help? With Llamrei? It will be a cold day in Tartaros when that happens!”

Cadwen shoved her way past the tall cavalry soldier into the stables. A familiar fragrance surrounded her; of straw, leather saddles and tack, horses, dust, and a dash of manure. For a moment, she forgot everything else ...and felt at home.

Then she froze before Llamrei's stall: what if she doesn't know me either?

Even with the vision the Goddess sent her, even with Rose's good counsel, if that happened, Caden wasn't sure she could go on. Her hands shook when she approached the milk-white mare, because Llamrei looked with those wide blue eyes.

Brown eyes were the color of most horses, yet every now and again one was blue. Caden had never remembered her mare's eyes this blue; though, though seemed to glow. Somehow Caden found her voice.

“Hey, girl, I know you don't recognize me, but, um ...I'm me, I mean, Caden, er...”

Llamrei nickered a bright hello, then nuzzled Caden's face before she could speak another sound. Caden threw her arms around Llamrei's neck and pressed her cheek against her dearest friend. Her throat had tightened, but she managed to sob a 'thank you.' Llamrei neighed her response.

“You're right, we don't have all day,” Caden said, lifting her head.. Then she stepped back to look at her horse. “Cedrick has a point; I've lost a dozen inches in height.”

Llamrei nodded her head and neighed again

“Right,” Caden answered, “my old saddle it is then, and-”

Her mouth dropped open. “Llamrei! You’re talking to me!”

Llamrei nickered again, reducing Caden to stutters.

“You've a-always t-talked to me? But ...but ...how is it I understand you n-now?”

Caden put her hand on her hip at Llamrei's snorted reply.

“Oh? I've gotten smarter as I've gotten prettier? Insane is more like it; I mean, I’m talking to my horse.”

“You’re not a horse but my …familiar?” Caden said in answer to a whinny. "But familiars only come to people with magical power, like wizards or healers, or…”

Caden looked down at her hands, which briefly glowed blue.

“Blast and bother! I’m magicked, aren't I?”

Caden’s hand went back to her hip when Llamrei let loose a series of whinnies.

“Well I’m glad someone thinks it’s funny. Shall we saddle and bridle now?”

Llamrei neighed and whined several sentences to Caden, and the young woman turned paler.

"It ...cuts you? Oh, Llamreii! All these years, I had no idea!"

Caden fell to the straw before her mare. "I'm so sorry."

Llamrei whispered something and gently cuffed the back of Caden's head with her muzzle. Caden rose and stroked Llamrei."

"Thank you, I don't deserve your forgiveness. I promise I will never fail you again."
 

 
“My distrust of you grows by the minute, Lady, for Prince Caden would never deign to use a bosal. No true Glamorgan cavalryman would.”

“I'm using a bosal because Llamrei told me that a bit rips the inside of her mouth, and...”

Caden sighed. She saw the set of Cedrick's face; he would look more kindly on her if eels wriggled from her mouth.

“We haven't the time to waste for me to convince you, sir. War comes and Glamorgan needs her king. Will you and your men accompany me, or shall I ride alone?”

Cedrick looked to the sky; the gray clouds told him another storm was here.

“But surely we would be prudent to wait until the foul weather passes. Remember, winter either bites with its teeth or lashes with its tail.”

Caden growled; there was no time for this! She leaned close to one of Llamrei's ears.

“The path to the hunting lodge will be hard, for every mile is two in winter," Caden whispered. Will you allow me to ride you?”

“Thank you," Caden said, after Llamrei neighed. She vaulted onto her saddle.

“Cedrick? Catch me if you can. Llamrei ...fly!”

Llamrei reared on her hind legs and trumpeted a neigh. Then she and Caden galloped away toward the Highland mist.

~o~O~o~

29.

General Baurdu scanned the scene before him; the Drachill Basin was so uniformly flat, that even this tiny hill gave him a commanding view of the plain.

“Captain, is the force bearing down on us the main Parasian infantry? The dust obscures their numbers from me.”

Captain Elsuk peered into the distance. “We count both light and heavy elements, and we’ve identified the banners of all Parasian divisions, sir.”

“So …yes? We’ve lured the lot of them?”

Elsuk answered with a crisp ‘yes sir.”

“Excellent. Have the buglers blow halt, then formation. Send our banners forward. Once they reach the front, sound advance. And send word to King Gritha that it has begun.”

“And the signal to the Black Brigade?” Elsuk said.

Baurdu scanned the skies; though a storm brewed in the far Glamorgan west, above the Basin the air was cold and clear.

“By the gods we are favored! For weather permits the mirror flash. Relay the message to the Brigade to begin their march; it is time to tighten the noose!”

~o~O~o~

30.

The three princess stood in the hallway before the massive council doors; Gwyneth brushed a hand over its rough surface.

Glamorgan aspen was not an easy wood to work with, she knew, for furniture other than rustic beds. But her great great grandfather, King Hywel, had demanded aspen be used. Aspens grew tall and straight, which for him meant it was an honest wood; honest and truthful. Hywel hoped this quality would rub off on his counselors when they walked through.

For a moment, Gwyneth, Carme and Laelia stood and listened, to the sonorous tones, filtering through the wooded doors. They tried to sense the mood of the kingdom's wise men; were they outraged? Determined? Purposeful?

Hywel had been shrewd, for the doors would not allow such lies to filter through. What the princesses clearly heard was fear. The Glamorgan counselors filibustered any action, because they hadn't a clue what next steps to take. And so they sought to wish away their fright through ponderous speeches.

"If words were arrows, then our council could protect us from any foe," Laelia hissed.

"But they are not arrows, only air, hot and useless." Gwyneth replied. She reached for the brass door handle. "I've heard enough; shall we?"

"I wish Roni and Cadi were with us," Carme said. "The High Priestess told us that the five princesses together must work to save our land."

"And we are!" Gwyneth said. "Roni understands how desperately we need to know what is happening between our foes. She also knows Jaussen would never allow her to travel alone. By dragging him with her, she moves our best spy into the field. And if anyone can rouse Father from his self-pitying sorrow it is Cadi. Our job is to make sure that when Father is here, and when we actually know what our enemies are doing, that we have a mobilized army ready to act."

"You make it sound so simple," Carme said, twirling a blonde curl.

"Simple, yes, easy, no," Gwyneth answered.

"What if they won't listen to us," Laelia said. "What if-"

Gwyneth whirled around, eyes flashing.

"Rhonwen is risking her life! And Caden, well ...what our newest sister is suffering is unimaginable, yet still she rides to reach Father. And you fear these grumpy old men? We are Glamorgan princesses! Show some backbone!"

At her growl, Laelia and Carme's faces reddened. But they threw back their hair and stood chin up and board straight.

"Now you've got it! Let's go!"

Gwyneth spun to the doors again and slammed them open.

All talking hushed and twenty wizened heads turned to the doors, twenty of the highest ranking nobles in Glamorgan.

"Princesses!" A silver-haired man called from a podium; he who wore the purple robes of the Glamorgan Pro Consul.

"We are honored by your presence. This may not be the time for a tour of the Chambers. We are in camera and-"

"-But you are not in session," Gwyneth said, in a voice that cut through the fog of rhetoric hanging in the air.

The Pro Consul huffed as he straightened his robes. "I beg your pardon, we most definitely-"

"You are not doing anything at all!" Gwyneth said, as she walked toward the podium. "I will speak to you now. I claim le roi droite."

"A thousand pardons," the Pro Consul patronized, "but as Princess, you have no standing to address this body, and certainly cannot invoke le roi droite."

"Point of order," Gwyneth answered, as she drew beside him. "Under the Covenant of Rayedge, in the absence of the King, the eldest heir speaks for the crown."

"Ah, you are mistaken, Princess." The Pro Consul's tone was condescension incarnate. "That Covenant only applies to male heirs, and quite clearly you are not-"

"-If you would actually read the scroll," Gwyneth answered, "you would find it is not gender specific. Master Scribe? Do you disagree?"

The head of the small man seated next to the podium slowly rose. When he blinked through his bottle thick spectacles, he grinned; Gwyneth had been one of his brightest students.

"The princess is correct, Pro Consul, the Rayedge Covenant did not specify male heirs."

"This is not acceptable, Princess" the Pro Consul snorted. "I must object-"

"-Not acceptable? Let me discuss exactly what is not acceptable. The armies of Parasia and Arcum are on the move, yet we have precious little intelligence of what is happening. Princess Rhonwen rides south with Officer Jaussen as we speak. She risks her life to do so. Princess Caden rides-"

Murmuring erupted at the mention of her new sister's title. Gwyneth allowed it for no more than a few moments, before she hammered the podium with the Pro Consul's gavel; she had already edged him out of the way.

"Don't feign ignorance! Jaussen gave this body a full report of how Caden was changed at the hand of King Coel's wizard. It was an act of war against Glamorgan that this Council has managed to ignore these past days. To say she suffers would be an understatement most laughable. Yet instead of grieving in her room as any normal human would after such a traumatic transformation, she has ridden into the teeth of a Highland blizzard to fetch our king down from his mountain hideaway."

Carme and Laelia joined Gwyneth, and flanked their sister at the podium. Their eyes scanned the councilmen.

"I know my sisters," Carme said, in a clear voice. "Rhonwen will return with news of our enemies. Will our troops be ready to act?"

"And Caden will return with King Rhys," Laelia joined. "With our enemies at our doorstep, how will you explain our lack of preparation to our king?"

As their words sank in, the councilmen turned pale green.

"But what are we to do?" the Pro Consul said. "We've always been guided by the king's firm hand. What. Will. We. Do?"

A grin spread across Gwyneth's face. She had them! The council was hers.

"I will tell you..."

end part 8.
 
Author's note: This story is set in the same world as two earlier stories I have written called The Necessity of Winter, and After Winter duty and destiny follows After Winter by three years. A map of the Argentian Western Reaches (where this story takes place) can be seen by clicking here. A cast of characters (evolving) can be seen by clicking here.