Seeker (The Source Chronicles Book 1) (10 page)

“What do you have now, my lords?” asked the King without preamble upon entering the council chamber.

General Bodrir arose from his seat.  “My liege, an unknown number of rebels have made their escape from the city.  They distracted us with a fire, then escaped through an aqueduct service tunnel in the north.  They took out four of my men and killed two and wounded two of drey-Sharron’s.  We are in pursuit.”

“The blaze was quite large, consuming half a block before it could be brought under control,” reported Constable Val drey-Sharron.  “There was no way of knowing, until it was extinguished, that they used it to make their escape.”

“Order is being maintained, and we are preparing to seal off the aqueduct passageways,” added General Bodrir.

“What about their contacts?” asked the King.

Sir Garvol Dorran stood.  “My liege, we finally cracked the merchant Kurr.  His associate was a store owner named Max Parcall.”

“Have you brought this man in?” questioned the King.

“I dispatched a platoon of Guardsmen immediately, upon Sir Garvol’s request, your Majesty,” stated Captain-General Ov Callan.  “When they arrived, we discovered it was his home that was the point of origin for the fire.  Lieutenant Varg dispatched messengers to report this to the Constable and General Bodrir without delay upon this discovery.  It all happened very abruptly.  There was nothing else we could do.”

Varlock-Sharron paced over to the window, his hands behind his back.  The others watched him with concerned anticipation as he stood there a moment, soaking it in.

“How could you let them escape?  I thought this city was sealed,” hissed the King menacingly.

No one replied immediately.  Constable drey-Sharron cleared his throat.  “My liege, we took every precaution.  We did all we could.  Half the constables at the aqueduct were members of the district fire brigade, and rode off to take care of it.  The remaining guards were overcome, and no one has reporting seeing any who meet their descriptions on the streets at the time of the fire, near that passage.  I can only presume they were well disguised.  We thought we had every angle covered, but it seems we underestimated them.  What else were we to do, Your Majesty?”

The King turned slowly.  “Constable, you are on notice.  I want new security protocols for this city, and I want them now.  You have three days.  You can take assistance from any of the members of the Council.   And I want all service tunnels and other passages in the walls sealed, even if the city public works officials don’t like it.  If I do not see an improvement in security arrangements with some meaning, you will be removed from your office, Val drey-Sharron.  Under your watch, these rebels have gotten into and out of my capital, taking with them a dangerous prisoner who cannot be allowed to be free.”

His tone changed, become even darker and more menacing, if that were possible.  “If not for your outstanding service to me over these many years, I would have you executed here and now.  This is your one and only chance.  Use it wisely.”

“Of course my liege.  As you wish, your Majesty,” said drey-Sharron, visibly shaken.

“General Bodrir, who is in command of the Gara-Sharron garrison presently?”

“Colonel Gav Holov, your Majesty.  He’s held this post for five years.”

“No longer.  He is relieved of his command at once.  Find someone who can assume the post, and promote him.  Today.  Work with Colonel Holov’s replacement and draw up new patrol and gatekeeping protocols within the week.  Go over the training regime for those soldiers assigned to Gara-Sharron as well, and improve upon it.  Make certain you coordinate with drey-Sharron, so as not to duplicate efforts.  What has been allowed to happen here is intolerable, and I will not allow this to continue, and go unchanged.  Understood?”

“Of course, my liege.  What of Colonel Holov?”

The King paused to consider.  “Assign him to an out-of-the-way duty post somewhere.  Someplace unpleasant, where he can consider his mis-management of the garrison.  An outpost up in the mountains, or Garwiln Island, perhaps.  That will give him some time to think and reflect on his incompetence.”

“As your Majesty commands,” stated General Bodrir crisply.

“And General,” the King continued, “find them.  Redouble your efforts to search for their hiding place.  The Falcon Raiders are now your first priority.  I will not have insurgents running free around the countryside.  Search every farm, village, ruin, field, and forest.  Assign as many soldiers as you can without hurting our border forces.  Use local constabularies as necessary.   This must be stopped.  I will not play games with my daughter and her bandits any longer.  It ends now.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” they acknowledged.

Varlock-Sharron took a deep breath, let it out slow before continuing, “Sir Garvol, what of the prisoner?  Did he share anything else with you?”

“We know he only met your daughter once, your Majesty,” stated the Warlord, checking over notes.  “His contact was a man named Dak Amviir.  We have no information on this man, but are checking into him now.  We believe he is not a Sharronian.  The merchant knows nothing of their hideouts outside of the city, and named only a few contacts and associates in Gara-Sharron.  Captain-General Callan immediately dispatched men to round up those he implicated.  I believe we have picked his head clean at this point.”

“He could not tell you where they would go upon leaving the city?” asked Varlock-Sharron.

“No, my liege.  It would seem information within the Falcon Raiders is only passed out on a need-to-know basis.”  He sighed, and added, “Forgive me, Sire, for I may have trained your daughter too well.  We have everything he could give us, your Majesty.”

“Very well then.  Schedule him for termination once we have detained his associates.  We do it for their benefit.  That should loosen their tongues.  Make it happen as soon as possible.”
              “Yes, your Majesty,” complied Sir Garvol.

The King turned towards the door, signaling Lord Tulock to follow him.  As he began to walk out, he paused and spun slowly back to his war council.

“Continue with your duties. I want to be done with this nonsense.  You have served me well, my lords.  I consider each of you to be strong, trustworthy, and loyal.  But as you are well aware, that does not insure tenure in your position.  You have all failed.  Do not disappoint me again.”

Chapter 10

It was nearly evening.  Dak had led them into a small clearing in the woods, about a hundred yards off the road.  Lyrra-Sharron and Cam were both calm, drinking water, but Max and his wife were clearly uncomfortable, and tired to the point of tears. 

Dak and Lyrra-Sharron had agreed that approaching one of their bases or strongholds would not be wise before sunset, and had constantly changed the direction they were moving in, as well as their pace.  They were working hard to confuse any potential pursuers.

More than once the oddly-met party had ducked behind trees well off the road, keeping as silent as they could, to avoid patrols along the roads.  They were only stopped now because Max’s wife had collapsed, sobbing, exhausted, crying that she was unable to go on without rest.

Lyrra-Sharron was not pleased at all to be stopped, and was rather short with everyone.  Dak was keeping an eye on the road.

“How much further?” asked Max, breathing hard still.  He was shaking slightly, sitting upon a cloak.

“We cannot go too far into the woods here.  They are dense, and we’ll not want to be there after dark,” stated Dak, still keeping his eyes towards the road.  “But we are still too close to the city.  We don’t have very many choices.”  He turned to look directly at the merchant.  “I’m sorry, Max, we can’t stop here for long.”

Cam Murtallan stood up and stretched.  “I know this may sound odd, but even on the run like this, I have to admit it feels good to be free.  I feel better than I have in weeks now.”

Lyrra-Sharron looked towards him.  She’d been sitting cross-legged, picking despondently at blades of grass and dead leaves, between throwing nasty glances toward the merchant and his wife.  “Actually, I am rather surprised you are doing as well as you are.  My father seldom leaves his captives mobile.  After all you have been through, you do not slow us down at all.”  The Princess glared at the merchant and his wife once again.

“We are not accustomed to such rough living,” stated Max’s wife, still nearly sobbing.  “We do not run about like criminals.  We are not conditioned for this sort of action.”

“Hush!” Dak hissed.

Lyrra-Sharron stood, and Cam looked towards the direction Dak was facing. 

They were just on the road, a group of a dozen Sharron Army soldiers.  No one made a sound, as the group very slowly walked the highway on horseback, looking into the woods.  Looking right at them.

“By the gods!  There!  In the trees!  The rebels!”

“Leave the saddles!  You, Corporal, get to the garrison and bring reinforcements!  Move!”

“We will have to fight our way clear,” said Lyrra-Sharron calmly, drawing her swords.  “Dak, you have to get the man on horseback.  Cam, take a few more steps away from me, force them to separate.  Max, go into the woods.  Take Nyra.  Run!”

Max clumsily drew his sword, and taking his wife’s hand, ran off fearfully into the forest.  Lyrra-Sharron, Dak and Cam spread out and began to move towards the approaching soldiers. 

Fortunately for them, there were no archers.

“Surrender, your Highness.  I have orders to return you to Gara-Sharron, alive...or dead.  The choice will be yours,” stated a soldier with a large broadsword.

“I have a better idea, Sergeant.  How about you and your men join us?  I promise you will be well rewarded, and you can help me when I take the throne from my father.”

“I don’t think so, Highness.  I am loyal to General Bodrir.  He is loyal to the King.  I have my orders.”

“I will not go quietly,” said Lyrra-Sharron.

“Take them!” the Sergeant ordered.

The soldiers raced towards them at a charge.

Dak ran head-on into three soldiers.  He dove for the ground, rolled, and leapt up, sprinting for the road.  Two out of three soldiers gave pursuit. 

Four soldiers, including the Sergeant, moved towards Lyrra-Sharron.  She stepped to the side, and met two head on as the others circled her. 

Four more approached Cam.  He simply stood his ground.             

Dak reached the road, and jumped onto the back of a horse.  Before his pursuers could reach him, he took off at a gallop.  Both soldiers took to horse, and gave chase.

Lyrra-Sharron thrust at the first of the two she faced.  He stepped to the side, as she crouched down and parried a swing from the next.  She rose up, blocking the same soldier’s sword, then thrusting her right-handed blade through his chest.  She spun about, her left-handed rapier slicing across the unprotected throat of another.

As both soldiers fell, the two others moved forward.  Simultaneously, they attacked, the sergeant with a swing of his sword, the other with a thrust.

Lyrra-Sharron blocked the swing, and jumped back out of range of the thrust.  She stepped back in, parried the blade thrusting towards her to the ground, then lunged, driving her right-hand rapier through the chest of the soldier.

She stepped forward out of the lunge, withdrawing her blade from the fighter.  As he fell to the ground, she stepped back into an en guard position, and faced the sergeant.

“Impressive, your Highness,” remarked the sergeant with a note of admiration in his voice, “Those were good men.  But I am a master of the sword.  Surrender to me.”

The Sergeant had a broadsword, but no shield.  Lyrra-Sharron had two rapiers.  The broadsword was a long, heavy weapon with a wide blade and upward swept quillions.  The rapiers were long, thin blades, with intricate guards and quillions, one side swept up, the other down.  With enough force, the broadsword could simply slice the rapier blades in half.

Lyrra-Sharron was barely breathing hard.  “I will not surrender.  You will have to fight me.  I have always wanted to see if my mastery of the rapier was a match for a broadsword master.  So lay on, then.”

*****

Cam Murtallan stood, watching the four soldiers charge him.  As they came near, he dropped to a crouch.  He rolled into a somersault, coming up to a crouch again even with his attackers.  He swung out his staff, catching a soldier’s shins and dropping him to the ground with a cry.  Reversing the swing, he used the other end to do the same to a second.

Cam quickly stood, but as he did so, he drove an end of his pole into the gut of a soldier.  As he doubled over, Cam brought the quarterstaff up into the soldier’s chin, hard.  He toppled, stunned.

The last guard swung his sword at Cam.  The Sorcerer tried to duck out of the way, but the blade still managed to just knick his upper arm.  He yelled loudly, taking a step back.  The pain was already gone, though he felt the heat of blood rising to his skin. 

He faced the soldier, whose sword had come back up to the en guard position.  The soldier stepped towards Cam, thinking to take advantage of his wounded opponent.

Cam swung his stick, knocking aside the blow.  The soldier reversed his swing, as did Cam, again deflecting the blow.  They did this several times, grunting louder with each exertion, every impact against the staff sending chips of wood flying.  Then Cam stepped inside the soldier’s guard, bringing his weapon down upon the man’s wrist.

The soldier cried out, dropping his sword.  Cam reversed the staff, butting the man in his gut.  As he doubled over, Cam again brought up the pole, swinging the end hard, cracking a loud blow across the soldier’s face.

He crumpled to the ground.  Cam proceeded to the two guards he smashed across the shins, neither of which had made an attempt to stand, possibly nursing broken bones.  He was not going to give them a chance to rise, and butted his staff upon the back of the head of one, and across the bridge of the nose of the other.  All four soldiers were down, unconscious or dead.

Cam looked towards Lyrra-Sharron, saw her facing the sergeant, three soldiers down around her.  He glanced to the road, and saw after a quick count that a trio of horses were missing, one taken by Dak, two by his pursuers.  Cam quickly searched for the last guard, realizing he wasn’t there.  He faced off in the direction Max had run.  Without another thought, he began to charge into the woods, hoping to reach them in time.

*****

The sergeant took a step forward, swinging out his blade in a downward arc from his right.  As he did so, he pointed the tip of the sword back up, making for Lyrra-Sharron’s face.  She brought up one rapier to ward off the blade, using the other to soften it, so as not to break her own weapon.

The rapiers were considerably lighter than the broadsword, and as the sergeant dropped his point and drew the blade before him in a guarded position, Lyrra-Sharron made two fast attempts at thrusts.  But the sergeant was strong and quick, stepping back as he brought the broadsword up for another swing.

Lyrra-Sharron was forward, appearing slightly off balance.  The sergeant thought to take advantage of this, and simply drove his sword downwards, attempting to take the Princess’ head.  But Lyrra-Sharron was very good, and had in fact maintained perfect balance.  She dropped to a knee, bringing up her right hand sword to ward off the blow.  She began to then rise up, and drove her left hand blade into the chest of the sergeant.

He dropped his sword, looking down at the blade lodged in his chest.  Just the tip of the weapon peaked out his back.  He looked into the face of Lyrra-Sharron, as she wrenched the blade from his chest.  The soldier collapsed. 

“Not bad, sergeant.  Not bad at all.  Best sport I have had in months,” said Lyrra-Sharron, breathing a bit hard from her exertions.  She glanced about her, noting all four soldiers were not moving.  She searched for the Sorcerer, saw the four men strewn about where he had been.  She looked towards the woods, finding the place where Cam had passed into the foliage, chasing the soldier in pursuit of Max and his wife.

Lyrra-Sharron hesitated.  Should she give pursuit after them, or go to the road and try and help Dak?

One of the soldiers left by Cam groaned.  Lyrra-Sharron decided what it was she had to do. 

*****

Cam moved rapidly.  He could barely make out the path the soldier had taken in pursuit of Max and his wife.  He heard a scream just ahead.

Cam broke into a run, then came to a small clearing beside a stream, where he found them.

Max’s wife lay crumpled by the waters, blood seeping out of the wound in her back where the soldier had thrust his blade as she’d tried to escape.

Max had turned around, and tried to fight his pursuer.  But it had obviously gone badly.  His sword lay between Cam and the soldier, having been thrown out of his hand, and he was on his knees, pleading for his life. 

As Cam watched, the soldier swept his sword back and up over his right shoulder, then swung down hard, removing Max’s head.

Cam was enraged by the sheer brutality.  He didn’t even think as he rushed at the soldier.  He found himself chanting in the ancient tongue, attempting to cast a spell as he reached the man .

“Steel!” he cried, the word that would unleash his power.  With that, the end of his staff began to glow a steely blue.  He swung it at the surprised soldier’s head, hard.  He heard the sound of metal on bone as the soldier’s skull was cracked beneath the altered weapon’s blow.

The soldier dropped like a stone, and Cam froze a moment, then sank to his knees, bliss and agony, as tears welled up in his eyes.  It had come to him, again.  But just as quickly as he’d called it up, it was gone.

*****

Lyrra-Sharron had finished her task, and was cleaning her blades on a fallen soldier’s cloak.  She looked up at the sound of hooves on the road.  A single horse approached, and Dak Amviir swung down from the saddle.  He moved smartly towards Lyrra-Sharron, his bloody sword drawn.  He slowed down as he reached her.

“What happened?” he asked, breathing hard.

Lyrra-Sharron gestured with her blades.  “We had a fight.  It did not go well for the soldiers.  Cam got these four, I took care of those.  I think one chased Max and his wife, but Cam went after him.  Did you take care of them?”

Dak inclined his head once in acknowledgment.  “I caught the messenger and removed his head.  Turned and surprised the other two.  It’s been years since I fought on horseback,” he winced as he tightened his grip upon his sword.

Lyrra-Sharron noted the bloody gash along his left forearm.  “You have been wounded, Dak.  Let me take care of that.”

Dak shrugged her off.  “Wait a moment.  We’d better go after Max and Cam.  They could be in trouble.”

There was a rustling in the trees, and Cam emerged, carrying the body of Max Parcall’s wife.  He looked exhausted as he sank to his knees, setting her down.

“I was too late,” said Cam wearily. “And my power came to me again.  But now it’s gone.  And so are they.”

Dak checked Max’s wife’s body, and sighed sadly.  Lyrra-Sharron crouched beside the worn Sorcerer.  The look on his face nearly made her want to cry.  “You did all that you could, Cam Murtallan.  Take us to Max.”

Minutes later, they were back at the stream.  Dak had carried Nyra Parcall’s body.  They found the now headless Max, and the dead soldier, his skull crushed.

Cam looked over the carnage, sounding detached as he spoke.  “I cast a spell without even thinking.  I struck the soldier as though I wielded a steel rod.  I killed him with one blow.”

Cam shuddered a moment in recollection.  “I touched my power again, briefly.  You cannot know the sheer ecstasy of that power.  When it fades, and cannot be reached, it is the most agonizing sensation you could ever experience.”