Chapter 11

I noticed the dust motes dancing in the window’s beam of light as I briefly watched Julie. She waited in anticipation for Zetia to finish sucking up her morning supply of body magic. When I looked back at Zetia’s gorgeous brown eyes, I felt a shudder down my entire body and a glow of warm satisfaction.

“Well done,” Julie praised her assistant, as my PDA buzzed urgently. “That was wonderful timing too.”

I jumped out of the small bed the other way and opened the footlocker at the bottom of the bed. Snatching up the device, I answered it, already sure it was Webster.

His avatar appeared on the video screen. “Let me be the first to congratulate you on the addition of another mate. I am eager to see you succeed in creating a bountiful legacy. May I ask her name?”

“Corporal Zetia,” Zetia shouted out, moving to my side. She acted excited every time the PDA was activated. Julie walked over to the bed too.

“Lady Zetia it is an honor, I pledge my protection to you and your future children,” Webster said, with an air of seriousness that surprised me.

His avatar dramatically pulled a giant sword from its sheath. “Your children are my children.”

I’d heard enough. “What is the news about the Raiders? My dreams indicated more hostile ships are in the area.”

“A number of ships sailed from Conquest Point last night and moved into the northern part of the bay, joining the ships from the storm,” he explained.

“So, it wasn’t a haphazard landing spot after all,” I reasoned.

“Data probabilities support your conclusion,” Webster answered, while leaning on his sword.

Another window opened within the video screen showing a satellite view of the Raiders marching south towards Heraldsburg in two distinct groups. The second group was disembarking from the new ships, and most of them hadn’t left their landing site on the beach. The first group was organized and marching on the King’s Road; they were only a couple hours away from Heraldsburg. There were a lot of Raiders, and most of the city was an urban sprawl outside of its original wall. Heraldsburg’s port looked secure with high walls and a massive keep, but it was too small a redoubt to save the majority of the citizens. The old portion of the city looked like it was mostly warehouses, barracks, businesses and a limited amount of housing. It was a successful trading town that had eclipsed its founder’s earlier expectations, and money hadn’t been allocated to protect its surging development. “A lesson I won’t forget for Juniper Hills,” I thought.

“Does the city know?” Julie asked.

Webster shifted the focus of the image to a thin strip of land between the bay and a river, a landscape of farmland bisected by the northern stretch of the King’s Road. Hundreds of men were digging a hasty rampart across the road, from the river’s edge to the beach. It looked more like a speed bump than a wall.

“They know the Raiders are coming for a visit.” Zetia confirmed the obvious.

Julie looked at me harshly. “Von, this is not our fight. We are out of position, we are few in number and they are not our allies. We are a showpiece for Conquest Point’s envoy.”

“Derwen’s merchant fleet trades here,” I countered. “Also, we might be in a position to aid them.”

Zetia looked to Julie and back to me, following the tense comments.

“Look here,” I stabbed at the image. “Our road comes up from the south through the forest, and then bends east over the river. This bridge crosses the river here. When the Raiders assault the rampart we would be behind them, we’d have surprise.”

“We could be crushed like mushy peas,” Julie insisted. “Once we cross the bridge we are out of the forest into farmland. What if the Raiders place a guard on the bridge or just cross it, because they are lost?”

“They aren’t lost. The Raiders landed at night, out of sight from the city. A second group landed in the same place, a day later. They know where they are going; the storm threw off their timing. Even the Raiders we crushed were marching in the right direction to rejoin the main force,” I responded.

“Von, we didn’t come to this planet to police the world,” Julie pleaded. “I’ve lived that already with the marines.”

Zetia silently tracked us, bouncing her eyes back and forth between us. It took me a minute to realize Zetia was gently rubbing her hand up and down my bare thigh in a soothing fashion. She was smart, composed and loyal, qualities that I highly value. I linked my fingers in Zetia’s hand and casually kissed her; she was rubbing my leg raw, but it wasn’t the time to point it out. The kiss stopped Julie in her tracks. My wife smirked when I pulled her to me and kissed her too.

“You are right; you are why I am here,” I whispered in Julie’s ear. “I’m no policeman, nor a glory hound. I came back to build a life with my family.”

“But we can’t let the Raiders run amuck,” Zetia protested.

“Of course not,” Julie snapped back, unwittingly bottling Zetia’s outburst.

I gave Julie a hard look.

“Sorry, sorry, oh Zetia, I didn’t mean to sound harsh,” Julie continued, lifting Zetia’s chin with two fingers. “Von quickly throws himself in harm’s way to protect others. I worry about him. We’ve all seen death and suffering. I’m overreacting and babbling; tell me to shut up.”

I pulled Julie to me and put a finger on her lips, which made Zetia snicker. Julie playfully sucked my finger into her mouth in a seductive manner. Zetia laughed at that.

“You’re such good people,” Zetia whispered. “I am so lucky to have you in my life.”

“Is there anything else you need from me,” Webster asked.

“No. Thank you for the information, Webster.” I lifted the PDA and disconnected from the video call.

An eruption of gurgling stomach sounds shifted their eyes to me. I felt like the beam of light from the window was a spotlight on me.

“Time for breakfast,” I declared, shrugging off their surprised looks. “My energy reserves are lower than normal.”

Julie smirked, after biting down on a likely snarky response from her half-opened mouth. Zetia capped a snorting laugh with her hand, and with that, by an unspoken agreement, we all dressed and shuffled downstairs to breakfast. Going down the stairs, I noticed the inn was unnaturally quiet; it should have had a buzz of conversations. All we found in the common room was a lone lancer, sitting in a chair and resting his feet next to a warm fireplace. It was the friendly trooper that we’d encountered a few times prior, both on the road and inside the other inn.

He scrambled to stand quickly when he heard us enter the empty room. “Good morning, Lord and Lady Solon.”

“Trooper,” my wife answered.

“Sir, the Count sends his warmest regards and his sincere apologies.”

“They’re gone, aren’t they?” Zetia interrupted.

“The Count awoke early and felt it important to report the successful engagement with the Raiders,” he explained, while pushing his fingers nervously through his hair.

Zetia gasped at the glory hoarding implication.

“Count Vee has no idea what he is about to step in,” I thought.

Julie looked at me clearly thinking the same thing.

“What a high strung gentleman,” I commented.

“Do we tell him?” Zetia asked, while flexing her fingers nervously.

All of them looked at me when my stomach rumbled again.

“Breakfast is our present problem,” Julie said. “We’re not going to run our mules to death to reach them.”

With that Julie pushed passed the lancer and went looking for the innkeeper.

Zetia was more sympathetic to the lancer’s questioning look. “At least the Count left a messenger. I’m sure he has a fast horse.”

Three barmaids and a young lad entered the building with a stack of metal plates and cutlery.

“Is that the remains of the breakfast for the Black Horse?” I inquired of the lancer.

“Yes, sir,” he conceded. “The Count had the inn feed us this morning.”

“There is food left, right?” I asked one of the approaching staff.

“For you and your ladies, certainly,” the tallest woman answered. She stopped while the other servants continued to the kitchen.

“We are really hungry,” Zetia informed the woman, while pointing a finger at me.

The barmaid balanced the stack of plates in her hands with difficulty, so I dismissed her with a polite dip of my chin. Zetia mouthed ‘thank you’ to her, while I turned back to the lancer.

“Delivering bad news to a man on an empty stomach is a thankless task,” I commented in a gruff tone. “So, while I feel slighted by the Count, somehow I am not surprised by his rashness. You in turn have another thankless duty to perform, and your horse isn’t going to like the hard ride.”

“Sir?” he sputtered.

“Your friends are about to ride into a battle. A column of Raiders is marching on Heraldsburg from the north, and if you don’t spur your animal to warn them, you may become the only lancer left in your escort.”

“How can you know that?” he asked with wide eyes.

“I have seen my Lord Solon work his will on his Magic Mirror that Moon Mother’s gifts power,” Zetia blurted out. “Surely, the Count has warned you to watch your manners with the Wizard of the Coast?”

“I am sorry, Milord. You surprised me,” he answered, bowing low in embarrassment.

“Do you have a messenger pad or anything?” I asked him.

He looked at me blankly.

Zetia coughed uncomfortably in her fist. “I do; as liaison I send messages to my commander in the Old Bucks.”

“That is a surprise,” I thought, wondering what she had sent out and how.

She unbuckled a few cinches on the side of her leather chest armor and slipped a hand inside it, pulling out a thin leather packet that I’d never seen before. Zetia untied the packet, and pulled out a note-card sized piece of brown glossy paper. Next she pulled out a writing instrument and held it up.

“Colored wax stick and beeswax paper,” she announced, “it’s expensive and has dreadful limitations.”

“A clever but fragile combination,” I thought, while she cut the wood pencil to a dull point, making sure to expose the wax.

“The size of the paper restricts the length of the message, but I don’t carry an ink pen around and regular parchment doesn’t travel well with warriors,” Zetia explained apologetically, handing me the paper and pencil.

The mini-leather case opened and provided a hard surface to write on. The tip of the pencil felt more greasy than waxy, when I put my thumb to it. As Zetia suggested, we couldn’t fit much of a message on the paper, so I settled on ‘Do not cross the bridge, ambush on the far side of the river. Solon.’

Zetia pulled out a small, hollowed out wooden tube with a cork. I carefully rolled up the paper and put it inside the container and handed it to the lancer.

“If your escort crosses the Bay Bridge they will likely be crushed by 500-600 Raiders,” I explained.

“Saddle up and use your horse well, if you care about your friends,” Julie commented, returning from the kitchen.

He tucked the container inside a pocket. “The Black Horse Company owes you, Lord Solon. I will do my best.”

He dashed out the front door and was gone.

“Let’s hope his best is good enough,” Zetia commented, dryly.

A noisy pair of barmaids burst through the kitchen door with plates of food. The second woman violently bumped the door against the wall with a hip, which almost hit the innkeeper behind her, on its return; however, he turned his back and skillfully used his rear-end to knock the door gently back towards the wall while carrying a half-ham on an oversized plate and a water jug.

“I ordered food,” Julie explained with a cheeky grin, “after explaining we needed to eat before attending to the Raiders on their way here from the Bay Bridge.”

Zetia was able to keep a straight face at the exaggeration, but I wasn’t sure I did. After Julie’s announcement, the innkeeper floated around us during our entire meal, and he couldn’t have been more helpful in rushing the servers around. We were all pleased when he explained they had already fed our men. A supply wagon had returned from Heraldsburg during the night, stocked with enough food for our little detachment. Fortunately, Count Vee had paid for all of it, which made me think he was buttering me up for a favor. When I asked Zetia’s opinion on the subject, she looked at Julie first. “That is a bad sign. There is a scheme a foot,” I decided.

“Perhaps he is trying to make it up to you for leaving early?” Julie asked.

Zetia never did answer me, because Sergeant Scratch and his buddy entered the inn. Scratch immediately asked about the dramatic flight of the lancer from the stables. As it happened the cook and the barmaids came out of the kitchen at the same time to ask if we had enjoyed the meal. The Cliff Tower Inn staff was there when I explained the entire situation to Scratch and Scout. Once again, Scratch took the news well. Scout looked doubtful that scrying with the Magic Mirror allowed me to see our path ahead, but he didn’t say a word. For some reason the innkeeper believed every word I said, and he asked if the 1^st Provincial Regiment knew of the trouble, which they didn’t. Not liking my answer, the man pledged to get word to them. He claimed they were the best of the Princess’s three regiments. Yet, given our recent encounter with the men on the road I didn’t care either way, the political issues among their factions made them an unreliable asset.

The King’s Road angled away from the coast after we left the inn, following a deep and winding creek that flowed into the Bay River, and then ultimately into the bay that hosted Heraldsburg harbor. Well established farms and farmsteads were cut out of the forest along the entire length of the narrow valley floor. We ran into small groups of refugees that confirmed the presence of Raiders to our men. They were all trying to connect with distant family members rather than seek shelter in Heraldsburg. I knew the Wolves didn’t doubt me, but it energized their excitement at the first hand confirmations. Scout was the most affected, and I saw a new respect in his old eyes.

At the end of the valley the stream rushed over unseen rocks on the left side of the road where it cut between two small hills. The passage left the farmland behind and engulfed us in a tunnel of ash trees. A trail of fresh horse dung on the road confirmed that the Black Horse detachment escorting the Count was close.

“This mess is still warm to the touch,” Scout announced.

I considered making a joke about Scout playing with horse dung, but it would have been in bad taste. “Remember you’re not in a spaceship,” I silently chided myself.

A loud nickering horse up on top of the hill confirmed Scout’s pronouncement. Scratch guided his mule off the road and into the trees, immediately splashing a filthy puddle of water. He stopped and sniffed the air. Scout didn’t follow our sergeant’s example, he just smacked his mule and rode up the road for a quick look over its crest. Julie and Zetia followed Scratch in to the thick trees, but they dismounted as did others at the front of the column. I stopped the rest of the column with a hand signal and followed after Scout up the road.

I crested the hill to see it dipped again into a depression that then rose to a slightly higher peak. In the depression was Count Vee’s carriage in the middle of the road, along with two officers of the escort and Scout. Most of the escort was dismounted, hidden in the trees ahead.

A shrill, haughty voice erupted at Scout. “Where is your master?” The escort’s second in command asked in cold fury.

“I have no master. I am retired,” countered Scout.

The officer that had it in for Scout bent over his horse, looking down on Scout and his mule. “Commoners should know their place in the order of things.”

Before things escalated I shouted, “Where is Count Vee?”

The Count popped his head out the carriage window, and then, when he saw me, he opened the door before a footman could move to help him. I spurred my mule down the hill and swung off the animal in one motion. Scout left us and guided his mule up the road to get eyes on the river, leaving the officer to dance his horse sideways, closer to me. The other lancer, the escort’s commanding officer, dismounted and joined the Count about the time that Julie and the other Wolves came out of the trees.

“Where is this ambush?” the Count demanded.

“Good to see you alive,” I countered, not pleased with his presumptuous attitude.