To Be A Maestro (The Maestro Chronicles) (9 page)

The ashen stallion was currently one of the few horses enjoying the new stables provided by the Accomplisheds of the Stone Guild. Daniel conveyed the sense of approval through the connection, being pleased by all the progress made on his behalf. “Keep up the good work. I hope to see you in a few days and refill my vault. Later, I will take the time to show you my new holding.”

“I will inform Jared after the Soarers have gone,” Marcus replied and the connection ended.

Daniel was gladden to hear of the additional recruits, yet not sure how to take the news about the swooping in of the Eagle Guild on his estate, and their using spells to compel answers as if they did not trust Jared Benfyllon and Marcus Bower to speak truthfully. Talk about being heavy handed. How close on his heels were his adversaries? Who can he trust and who not? These were questions that needed answering.

The door opened and in walked Jonah Ducalin dressed in a light green wool suit with a sword on his hip. Behind him came clean-shaven, Sergeant-of-the-guard Frederick Zaccum, with just a trace of gray in his hair, and more than twenty years of service in the Royal Guardsmen. The man radiated experience and currently served as escort to the Queen’s nephew, who was red in the face. Sir Tomas and both generals also entered with Jaim Cutler wincing and closing the door behind them, clearly embarrassed at failing to keep these people from barging in.

“I can’t believe you crossed the border even after being told I could not support such an enterprise nor condone going forward with the mission” Jonah blurted out.

“Believe it,” Daniel replied. He had far greater concerns chipping at him and this interruption dealt with none of those. “The citizens out there would not be here if I had listened to you.”

“I thought you and I developed a better working relationship than this and that you could be trusted to heed our warning. Had any of us known you planned to sneak out in the night, we would have stopped you,” they would have tried, “Clearly the mission turned out to be successful, but at what cost?” Jonah stated, still red in his face, and perhaps a shade closer to the color purple.

“As it happens,” Zaccum interrupted. “I did see Sir Daniel’s detachment of Royal Guardsmen leaving in the night, followed later by a smaller group headed by an Accomplished.”

Jonah stared at his trusted escort, eyes widening in surprise, as if unable to believe his ears. “Why didn’t you raise an alarm or at least tell me?”

Zaccum scratched his head. “Normally I would, yet could not bring myself to do so at the time, as if I was being compelled to stay quiet. Perhaps the raid and whatever comes next is something that was and is meant to be.”

“Be that as it is, Sir Daniel, I’ve been told you have declared a Realm Alert and claim it has been validated by Queen Cleona,” the Ducalin replied after looking away from the Sergeant and taking a few moments to calm down. The man sounded as if he doubted the validation.

“Not that we are questioning your word,” Malcus was quick to say, although his tone and the set of his eyes suggested that was exactly what they were doing. “It is simply a matter of logistics, even the impressive drums and light towers set up by Jathem and his horse relay service has not been able to confirm the validation as of yet.”

“When Lord Jonah arrived here from the fort we told him of the raid, the results, and the Aakacarns you requested to go meet with Kall on our behalf. When asked if the information you gave us has been verified, particularly that of the Realm Alert, we were unable give him a satisfactory answer.” Sir Tomas spoke in a less offensive tone, yet still seemed filled with doubts.

“At least your crossing over and rescuing those Accomplisheds resulted in this nice compound, even though you have nowhere near enough personnel of your own to defend it,” Tallen said with no heat or rebuke in his tone. “If your Aakacarn friends fail to discourage General Kall from attacking, I would rather bring what resources I have here and fight behind stone walls as opposed to log ones.”

The ever practical General had a good notion, and Daniel would allow those forces to enter his compound for safety sake, theirs, if the situation changes. Tallen failed to consider the Accomplisheds who would help in the defense, particularly the one sitting in front of him. These men did not know the meeting had gone well and the Sutton Guardsmen were moving away from the border. Should they be told? Why bother when they seem to not trust the word of their host?

“Did you think my adding lightning bolts to my uniform a conceit?” Daniel asked, while looking Malcus in the eyes.

The General swallowed hard and then steadied his nerve, causing Daniel to wonder what his stare must look like to produce that kind of reaction in people. Jonah had not been in the meeting when Daniel had declared his rank, so his doubts were reasonable, not so much those of the others present.

“If you say you are a fully functional seven-bolt Accomplished, who am I to dispute the fact?” Malcus conceded that much, yet he did use the word, “if.”

Scores of words would not convince these people faster than action, it would be better if the nobles here actually began preparations for the coming war, rather than waiting days or weeks for official confirmation. Daniel stood from his chair. “Enough talk, I will settle your questioning of my word on both counts.”

Eyes widened in fear all over the room and sweat broke out on the foreheads of all the nobles, even Jaim Cutler standing quietly in the back, yet it was General Tallen who spoke. “Let’s not be hasty, we will accept your word as if it has been c
onfirmed, and work from there.”

Glances went to the lightning bolts on the hilt and scabbard of their host’s sword, none of the questioners wanted to face a master-of-the-blade, even if they did not believe he could summon Potential. Daniel came around the desk and stood right in front of the party of doubters. In his mind played the musical spell, Conveyance, life force energy surged in him, and he pictured himself and each individual in the room standing in the palace courtyard in Ducanton, approximately five hundred spans southwest of his compound in the northlands; all went black in the space between here and there, three heart beats later they arrived in the torch-lit yard. “Now you can all ask Queen Cleona Ducalin in person, maybe you will believe her.”

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Miriam Benhannon heard what sounded like multiple whip-cracks and opened the door to her son’s office. Not a soul was there, which is what she expected to see. “Daniel is gone again and it looks like he took all of them with him.”

“He’s got chores and I suppose the quickest way to get at them was to bring those nobles along for the ride,” her husband replied.

Silvia’s revelation had her worried, Daniel’s blood on the flute of Della Lain. Miriam had no real understanding of the power her son commanded, but she knew him, and his tendency to set aside his personal safety to accomplish a goal. “Trouble is brewing and it is coming for our son. What are we going to do?”

“Miriam, he’ll throw himself into danger like he always does,” Ronn replied while wrapping his arms around her. “And we will watch his back and patch him up like we’ve always done.”

She knew he was thinking about the time when Daniel, at the age of fourteen, went hunting, came back home all bloody with a buck he had wrestled from a mountain lion, and then passed out on the cottage floor. Fighting the huge cat was far from his first encounter with danger, but certainly the one that had frightened her the most. That is, until he started casting spells and every horror known or rumored to exist came to call. He has scars on his left thigh from the encounter with the lion. She wondered if Sh
erree asked him about them yet.

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Jerome Tarkona headed east from the town of Dolin toward his cabin just off the west bank of the Aczen River, which three thousand years or so ago used to be the eastern border between Taracopa and Aczencopa. The river was a southerly offshoot of the Mighty Hirus, which raced down from the Taltin Sea through the kingdom of Ducaun, running deep and fast and continued easterly through Cenkataar and out to the Eastern Ocean, while the Aczen calmly flowed south from Ducaun into Taracopa and down a good ways until bending slightly east, where it cut into Aczencopa for a few hundred spans and then out to the Southern Ocean.

Jerome faintly remembered when still a child in the community learning circle, about the ancient war where Taracopa cut a huge pie slice out of Aczencopa The memory only served to take his mind off traveling alone in the woods at night. Up until a year ago the journey from Dolin did not seem so dangerous. He knew how to handle the possible dangers posed by some of the meaner members of the local wildlife, bears, panthers, snakes, and such, and the gators swimming not far from his cabin. It was the vanishings that twisted his innards and most everyone else’s in the area. Riverboat captains and their crews tell the same story, people starting out the way they did hundreds of times before and then just vanishing without a trace. The King’s soldiers seemed powerless to stop whatever is the cause of the disappearances and the various Lords of the Lands in their cities were demanding action, which they should. Not that Jerome cared much for politics and such, what with Aakacarns casting spells and shaking up the world, all he wanted was to be back at his cabin.

A twig snapped over to the right of the trail and a bright light flashed. Jerome screamed and tried to run but he was caught in ropes he could feel yet not see, and something forced his mouth shut, cutting off his scream. A cloaked figure walked right up to him, beardless face clear in the moonlight. “I caught another one,” he called to someone in the distance. “This makes five for me tonight.”

“The night is young. I only need three more to surpass you,” the other voice replied.

The cloaked figure laughed. “Only if I sit down and catch no more. Mathis, you are an underachiever.”

“Laugh it up Koler, I’ll show you achievement. Now get your backside to the rally point or you’ll miss the traveling circle.”

“What do you think the Maestro will do with this group?” Koler asked in a more serious tone.

“Bunch of ignorant river rats is what these are. The purpose is to sow fear and cause contentions between the king and his people, but it is when we snatch a noble that the pot will be stirred up real good. This bunch we got tonight is only fit to be Condemneds,” Mathis replied.

Jerome struggled against invisible bonds; panic swelled from the depths of his soul, and would have produced a mighty scream if only he could open his mouth. Tears flowed unceasingly from his eyes and into his beard.

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Captain Canan DeKeller stood in the cool of the evening on the command deck of the Arrabella, flagship of Lord Jerrome DeSuan’s merchant fleet. With twelve masts made from Ducaunan yellow pines and sails so vast and white they appeared as majestic clouds, no one looking on could fail to be impressed. The giant waves of the Southern Ocean were intimidating to lesser vessels, which is why they tended to hug the coast while the Arrabella dared to brave the open waters. Even pirates seldom ventured thirty spans out from the coast, not that Canan had any deep concerns about the pesky thieves. Lord DeSuan spared no expense on the defense of his ships, purchasing the best ballista dart launchers available to civilians, especially since he personally insures the cargo. He owned smaller, faster, vessels for quick deliveries, yet this ship had the capability of transporting more merchandize than any other freighter, and more securely.

With ten ballista dart launchers, one on the bow, one on the stern, and four on each side, few vessels would dare to take on the Arrabella. Each launcher could shoot off a rack of four ballista darts at a time. Pirates knew to stay well clear of Lord DeSuan’s ships, for even the quickest schooner
s had bow and stern launchers.

“We are thirty spans due south of the
port of Oben,” Mister KaDin announced. His long sideburns stopped short of being a beard, just like those of his captain.

Canan knew the exact position of his ship and did not need the information, but it was a function of the First Mate to make such announcements. Oben is the last major port in southern Lobenia, after this came nothing but fishing villages until Port Joppa in Taracopa, at the mouth of the Tollus. From there the journey will become a little hazardous. The Arrabella then had to be navigated three hundred spans up the river to
Tara, the capital city, where the current cargo must be delivered. If an attack were to come, it would be when the ship had limited maneuverability in the relatively narrow waterway. Therefore the launchers would be manned and ready to discourage any would-be robbers.

He thought of his home port in Serinia and where the command of this vessel
had been bestowed upon him. Lord and Lady DeSuan were there with their daughter and twin sons. They were justifiably proud of their eldest son, Jerremy, who is now an Accomplished of Aakadon, one who has already distinguished himself above his peers. The young man, it has been reported, had played a huge part in the Battle of Bashierwood, and even now was on a mission so secret no one was even allowed to talk about it.

“Sails dead ahead,” Sightman Dejenner called from the crow’s-nest, interrupting a good bit of rumination.

Canan brought the optical cylinder to his eye and a Zunean Merchant Marine vessel leaped into view in the moonlight. Gray-white sails pushed it swiftly through the water and the ship appeared to be heading right for the Arrabella. He knew the reputation of these men to be little better than that of pirates, this vessel having come up with no lights to indicate its presence, reinforced that image, and meant their intent could not be good. It was not unheard of for a vessel to set sail and never be seen again, accidents happened at sea. What goes on beyond territorial waters often goes unreported. If the Arrabella were closer to the coast where ships of that size were more common, Canan would not be so suspicious, and he could not afford to take chances now, not with his current cargo. “Raise the yellow flag,” he commanded.

A mirror reflecting the signal light illuminated the flag, making it clearly visible, and any captain seeing the yellow flag would know to steer clear or risk being fired upon, yet the vessel did not change course. Closer and closer it came. Sweat broke out on Ensign BeColver’s brow as the fresh-faced young man stared wide-eyed; clearly surprised th
e warning was not being heeded.

Canan had no other choice. “
Battle stations, helmsman, hard to port, crews rack the launchers, and stand ready!”

Men ran to obey the orders as the ship turned in preparation to deliver a broadside assault. “Portside launchers racked and ready,” Mister KaDin reported in his most professional manner.

“Aim for the command deck and let fly,” Canan replied, confident the fools would not need a second shot to make them turn away.

Ballista darts shot out over the water and Canan watched as all sixteen peppered the command deck of the Zunean vessel. The ship stayed on course, seemingly unconcerned, and undaunted. A figure in black appeared on the bow and Canan’s blood ran cold. “Put fire to the darts, launcher one, aim for the bow, two through four, hit their sails!” he commanded.

Flaming darts lit up the sky and raced toward the targeted vessel. Canan watched through the optical while the cloaked figure waved his hand and a strong wind carried the barrage off to starboard, making them miss the ship completely. The Aakacarn pointed something at the Arrabella. The sound of an object whirling through the air passed Canan’s ear and Ensign BeColver’s head rolled off his shoulders, eyes wide in surprise, with blood spraying everywhere. His noggin landed on the deck with the body collapsing beside it.

“Launch volley, keep firing until there is nothing left of them!” Canan ordered, and watched as flaming darts took to the air and the gunner crews quickly replaced each rack with freshly loaded ones, continuing the barrage, repeating the procedure as fast as they could while the lau
nchers spewed their fiery fury.