Moonstone, Magic That Binds (Book 1) (11 page)

Lieutenant Gasolo ran up the stairs and helped her fight as the attempts at scaling the walls diminished. She looked over the edge to find Silver and the rest of the army pinning the invaders against the wall. The sounds of the conflict began to dwindle replaced by the screams and moans of wounded fighters.

The battle at the wall had ended. Restella heard Silver call up to open the gate. She descended the stairs and, with Gasolo’s help, let the soldiers in.  Restella stood with her bloodied sword as her fellow soldiers streamed past her.

“You are dismissed, Lieutenant Beecher,” Captain Shortwell said. 

Restella didn’t resist and fell on her bed, fully clothed. 

~

The princess sat at an early breakfast along with the other officers. Injured soldiers lined the hall along with a bound Earl Louson, sitting on the floor gagged after everyone tired of his complaining. She had woken up in the early morning and couldn’t return to sleep, going through every parry and every thrust. She’d killed men in the night—‘blooded’ as the soldiers called it. The thought of actual battle had frightened her, but she didn’t let it affect her mood. The thoughts of her blade doing damage still flashed in front of her, even now.

“Good for you, Beecher,” Gasolo said, his mouth full of bread.

“Good for all of us,” Restella said feeling warmed again by the compliment. “Who would have thought we walked into a trap?”

“Luckily you did,” Captain Shortwell said from behind her. “Good work, Lieutenant Beecher. Your closing of the gate saved the lives of our officer corps, including your own. Louson’s men mixed his men in with the Oringians. It appears that he and Baron Jiffero have decided to set up their own little country on the border with fealty to the Oringians. That won’t happen now, thanks to you.”

Restella continued to chew. “That would mean complicity on the part of the King of Oringia, then.” So many back at the castle bragged about the peace. She knew that peace never lasted for very long in the history of Besseth, but she didn’t expect war to blossom on her first foray into the countryside.  Her battlefield experience from the night before didn’t help her appetite.

“Indeed it does and that is an act of war. I’ll be sending you, Lieutenant Gasolo, back to Beckondale with this information. Be ready to leave in an hour and go straight to General Piroff. I’ll give you a letter for the General and chits for horse exchanges along the way.” The captain left them to their breakfast.

“There goes lunch and maybe dinner until I get far enough west to an inn I know,” Gasolo said. “I’ve done this before. I just wish we had brought some birds.” He began to shove more food in his mouth. Restella let him eat.

War. This is what she had hoped for, but as she looked at the men lining the great room of the keep, there was the death and injury side that she hadn’t integrated into her perceptions. At least she hadn’t frozen in fear when the battle started. Indeed, she felt like she fought for her life and she had.

She could have been killed up on that gate. Her stomach gave a violent turn. She had to hurry out of the keep and threw her food up against the wall.

“Not to your liking, ma’am?” Silver said as he walked up with a bucket.

“Too late for that.” She said.

“Wash your mouth out, Lieutenant. You’ll feel better. We all go through that after our first battle.”

Restella looked at Silver with new respect. “Even you?”

He nodded and gave her a grim smile, “Even me. It’s not exactly a badge of honor. This reaction might not be your last. It wasn’t for me. War is serious business and the consequences are never good for soldiers.” After Restella put a couple of handfuls of water in her mouth and spit it out, Silver dashed a few sloshes against the wall to clean off the contents of her stomach.

“Good job, ma’am. Takes guts, no pun intended, for a junior lieutenant to wake the old man up and tell him she’s got that itch.”

Restella squinted at Silver. “I didn’t tell you I woke him up, because I didn’t. He was already awake.”

He shrugged. “Sounds better as a story that you woke him up. The results were the same. I’m glad you gave me the order. It saved a lot of our men. We had them roused out of bed before the enemy attacked. The devils thought we’d be easy pickings. The closed gate made them sitting ducks once we forced them towards the keep.”

“You can imagine my surprise when arrows went whistling past me, while I sat down, wondering why the gates had been left open.”

“War stories, ma’am. You certainly earned that one. Lieutenant Gasolo told me about your work on the battlement. Warrior work. I’m moving the wagons in the keep, if it’s fine with you, Lieutenant.”

“It is, Silver.” He nodded and left the bucket. Restella slapped some water on her face and walked back inside, a bit smug with the fact that she had now seen action. She couldn’t help but smile, even though her stomach still complained.

~~~

CHAPTER ELEVEN

~

L
OTTO WIPED THE SWEAT OFF OF HIS BROW
as he worked with one of Kenyr’s other students. He looked up through the skylights at the darkening sky. Rain pattered on the glass and that made Lotto think of his hot sweat dripping on the floor. He saluted his opponent and grabbed a wide mop that Kenyr insisted his students use on the floor between sparring. When he finished mopping and drying the floor, he took up his weapons again.

He squeezed the grip of his practice sword and then did the same for his long knife. Both were blunted blades, but he’d gone through two sets, each heavier than the last in the three months during his training. He grimaced at the thought of one last match for the day.

He bowed to his opponent. The man had to be ten years older and seemed like he had been raised with a sword in one hand and one of those little bucklers in the other.

Lotto had won the first match and the man fought to even things up. After the first month, Kenyr never gave Lotto an easy opponent. Lotto could win, but always at some cost. Today, he suffered a slash to his thigh and the bruise felt like he carried a lead ball inside his leg.  However, he had caught the little dip that his opponent made with his buckler before an overhead blow. Kenyr said that finding the weaknesses demanded patience, but everyone had quirks and it would pay off if you could detect it soon enough to make the other man pay.

His opponent’s actions seemed slower in the third match. Lotto narrowed his eyes. The man was more fit than he was, so Lotto put that down for a ploy. He fought until he saw the dip and as the overhead smash came down, Lotto kneeled, using his sword to deflect the blow and lunged with his long knife in underneath the hand shield that always came up with the move. He felt the man’s padding stop the progress with the knife, but not before he heard a grunt, signaling victory.

“Excellent Lotto. You, too, Hari. I liked that slow-up. It will work against lesser opponents than Lotto.” Kenyr said. “Time’s up. Lotto, stick around for a bit. Did you bring your father’s weapons?”

Lotto nodded as he wiped his face again. Hari, being the loser would do the mopping after the last match.

“I want you to do one short sparring match with me, with the real blades.”

“But I haven’t touched these since you first gave them to me.”

Kenyr wiggled his finger at him. “My house, my orders,” he said as he picked out two short swords.

The weapons were retrieved and Lotto rubbed his hand on the grips and then stood with them in the middle of the floor while Kenyr put chain mail over the padded tunic that he always wore.

“Your weapon is too sharp for practice clothes and so are mine.” Kenyr grinned. “Now show me a few forms before we get started.”

Lotto shrugged into a mail shirt and began to move his feet and swing his weapons. He had expected the awkwardness in the blade that he felt when he first swung it quite a while ago, but now the sword felt perfectly balanced as he went through the practice.  He stopped and smiled at Kenyr.

“You are ready to use the weapons, but not in my school, except for this one time. The last practice sword that I gave you matched your father’s sword well enough.”

“He must have been a good swordsmen then.”

Kenyr moved through a few warm-up forms and nodded. “That he was. The magic attack slowed him up that day. He knew it and let me go to save you and to hide the stone. Now show me what you’ve got. Beware, these are edged weapons and will do more damage than your practice swords.”

They bowed to each other and began to spar. The sword felt like an extension of his hand, but Lotto knew that Kenyr played with him. Still, he learned certain characteristics as they moved across the floor. Kenyr stutter-stepped with his foot when he faked a back-handed slash and then he backed up. Lotto committed to moving forward at the next step.

Kenyr made the step and Lotto moved in and received the flat of Kenyr’s blade on his head. He staggered and fell senseless to the floor.

Lotto opened his eyes seeing the blurred image of Kenyr’s grin.

“You sit there for a bit longer and gather your wits. I’ve been watching you tear my students to pieces because you’ve been sensitive to their moves. I don’t make that step and retreat move normally, so I repeated it so you thought I’d duplicate the move again. You’re eyes gave you away as well as an intake of your breath. Don’t be fooled again.”

Lotto’s vision had cleared. He gingerly felt the lump at the top of his head. In a real fight he’d be lying on the floor with his brains on the wrong side of his skull. “Thank you,” he said. He didn’t really feel appreciation, but he had learned his lesson.

“Now, how do you like the sword?”

“Until you knocked me senseless, I didn’t even think about it.”

Kenyr sat down on the floor with Lotto and slapped his knee. “I could tell. You nearly looked like your father out there.” Kenyr shook his head and sighed. “What a tragedy.”

“Tell me something. Were you the man that Mander sent to look out for me?”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘looking out for you’, Lotto. Just keeping track. Mander sent others to Heron’s Pond through the years as well.” Kenyr stopped.

“You didn’t like to see me in my former state?”

“No. I didn’t and I felt badly about it. Perhaps the enemy’s magic had stunted your growth and without the Moonstone, you’d still be eating from the village’s garbage.” Kenyr pursed his lips. “I think the goddess of Fate has better things in store for you, Lotto.”

~

The soldiers left the supply wagons assigned to their splinter group in a clearing five hundred paces from Baron Jiffero’s castle, the other noble who had defected to the Oringians. Restella thrilled to be part of the smaller fighting group. Fighting. She might get another chance and this time Lieutenant Hanni led the group and he had already given her permission to work closely with him as he commanded the unit.

She already felt like part of the army, even in her lowly position and she could feel her competence grow as she approached the goal of actually becoming a warrior. Another engagement, she thought. Learning how to lead fighting soldiers could broaden her perspective.

Lieutenant Hanni and Restella viewed their objective from within the tree line in the twilight.

“The scouts report no troops or signs of any Oringians within two leagues.” Hanni said.

“Can we get someone to look inside the castle? Is it open during the day? Do the inhabitants of the village that hugs the north and west walls have any idea what’s going on?” Restella looked at Silver.

“That’s a lot of questions, ma’am. I know of a few men who might not mind spending an evening in the village’s tavern.” He grinned.

“Then do it,” Restella said and looked at Hanni. “Excuse me Lieutenant, the order should come from you.”

“By all means Silver, go.  We’ll keep a picket watch some paces into the forest and attack at dawn, if the information indicates that Jiffero’s castle and the village aren’t harboring a horde of Oringians.”

“I’ll relay the command, sir,” Silver said and disappeared into the woods.

Lieutenant Hanni turned his horse around.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to observe the castle for a bit more,” Restella said. “The setting is too serene given the fact that Earl Louson suffered a defeat and I would expect a heightened sense of activity.”

“Suit yourself, Beecher.” Hanni continued back through the woods, quietly commanding that the soldiers fall back to the wagons when the watch arrived.

Lieutenant Hanni didn’t seem to be too interested in her observations and Restella wondered how Hanni would perform in a real war. Like her, he’d never been involved in more than a simple skirmish before, nothing as unsettling as the attack on Louson’s keep. It seemed he hadn’t engaged his mind to ferret out the possibilities of the situation. She refused to think that narrowly and that fact energized her. After seeing how the unexpected nearly wiped out the Captain’s command, she felt that officers should think harder about the situation rather than just react. Hanni seemed to be a reaction kind of person.

Luck had saved the day along with a little common sense at Louson’s keep. Perhaps luck played a larger part in war than what made her comfortable, but merely reacting, just drawing a sword when your opponent drew theirs didn’t seem to be the path to long-range success. She would have to think harder and anticipate more from a strategic point of view than she ever had on the practice field. Restella settled in for a long wait.

She had stood by her horse for some time, letting the cold weather seep into her bones, when three men speaking with loud voices walked up the road to her right and disappeared into the village. Silver’s men. She hoped her idea didn’t turn out to be a death sentence for any of them. The night began to liven up as villagers walked the streets. Perhaps the tavern didn’t open until after dark. That would make sense if the wives kept their husbands home to reduce their drinking time. She smiled at the thought.

After the initial flurry of activity, the evening settled down.