The Crown and the Sword

CHAPTER TWENTY — ONE

‘How many of your ogres fell?” Ankhar the Truth asked Bloodgutter of Lemish. The half-giant had witnessed the carnage at the edge of the city and was prepared for the worst. Though the elemental king had disappeared over the horizon some hours before, he was still trembling at the memory of the rampage and at his utter inability to control his “ally.”

“Too many,” grunted the captain. “I have maybe five hundreds left but lost even more than that. The monster crushed and burned them-even drownded some!” Bloodgutter looked accusingly at his commander. The half-giant glowered back, making clear than no further comment from the ogre chief was necessary or desired.

“Even against that, not one ogre ran away,” the captain declared proudly.

Ankhar finally grunted an acknowledgement, and the ogre captain stomped away. The army commander had already heard from Spleenripper, who had lost thousands of his infantry, and Eaglebeak, whose archers, likewise, had been reduced to less than half of their original number by the violence of the elemental king and the sharp, savage counterattack of the city garrison.

On the bright side, Captain Blackgaard’s mercenaries and Rib Chewer’s warg riders reported only light losses from their resistance to the river crossing of the three great wings of the Solamnic Army. The knights in that battle had suffered heavy losses, especially when they had been showered with arrows while still in their boats. Others had ridden futilely to their deaths against Blackgaard’s well-disciplined pikemen.

Furthermore, both captains had handled their highly mobile forces with skill, falling back to the siege lines while delaying the approach of the three wings of the knightly armies. They had forced the knights to deploy for battle repeatedly then skillfully withdrew their units before the enemy could strike. When the elemental king had come striding toward them, Blackgaard had swiftly wheeled his force out of the monster’s path and watched as it savaged the army of Solamnia. His final sighting of the creature had it moving southward, toward the foothills of the Garnet range.

Now Blackgaard and Rib Chewer joined Ankhar, while the Solamnics had regrouped, continuing eastward. The vanguard of the knightly army lay just over the horizon. It was clear to Ankhar that he had decisions to make, but his thoughts were in a muddle. His recent setbacks argued against another attempt to conquer the city, and the humans in the city had quickly repaired the breach in their defenses after driving the invaders out.

The elemental king remained missing, and he could hope and pray it would continue to inflict damage and spread terror among the lands of the humans. Hoarst was slowly recovering from his nearly fatal wounds, but the Thorn Knight, as yet, was unable to attempt to create another wand of control. Without such a device, Ankhar was not about to make any rash predictions about the conjured creature.

As usual, he turned to the counsel of his stepmother. She listened sagely as he discussed the losses his army had suffered and pondered his next course of action.

“The Prince of Lies, as always, knows the Truth!” declared the old hobgoblin. She picked up her skull rattle and shook it at him. Immediately he felt a swelling of his power and his determination as the blessing of the dark god was bestowed.

“Battles will be lost, and battles be won,” she intoned. “In the shadows of mountains, my victorious son!”

“Aye,” he said. “Sage advice, as usual. We need to move away from here, to use the mountains as shelter. The Solamnics will come for us, and there we will meet them.”

In the back of his mind, he suspected the elemental king, too, might have gone into the mountains. If it emerged, he could at least try to recapture it with the ruby box the old crone had repaired. Then if only the Thorn Knight would recover his senses.

“There you will destroy them, my son!” cackled Laka gleefully.

Ankhar nodded and touched his mother tenderly on her frail, bony shoulder. “Est Sudanus oth Nikkas,” he said, satisfied that he had made the right decision.

“Were you thinking about me, while you were off in Solanthus, battling that terrible monster?” asked Selinda.

The princess of Palanthas was alone with her beloved, having sent the efficient-but overly intrusive-servants away with the last of the dessert dishes. She had ordered up a magnificent torte, with iced cream and red berries that had been shipped from far down the coast and transported in cases filled with ice. The palace chef had outdone himself, creating a sweet, chilled pastry that had been beautiful to behold and sumptuous to consume.

Unhappily, her guest had only picked at the delicacy, and eventually the cream, the berries, and the torte had all melted together to form an unappetizing sludge on his plate. One of the servant girls had eventually carried it away, looking almost tearfully at the culinary magnificence wasted.

But of course, the lord marshal was tired, drained by the perils he had faced over the past few weeks. It was, the princess knew, nothing short of a miracle he was even alive. He hadn’t told her much about the monstrous elemental being, but even his scant description sent a chill of terror down her spine. She clutched his hand until her knuckles turned white, as if the pressure of her grasp would be enough to ward off any future dangers.

She was terribly worried about him. The stories she had been hearing from her servants lately were quite distressing. The people were complaining that the war was taking too long, that the army cost too much money! Didn’t they understand how important this war was? And how difficult? To Selinda such complaints were heartbreaking, and she had wasted no time in speaking up for this great man whenever someone dared to criticize him within her hearing. So vehement was her defense that it had not taken very long before people stopped voicing these thoughts in Selinda’s presence.

“But the battle in the city… you drove Ankhar’s army out of Solanthus?”

“Yes-a costly battle, but a key victory. Now the three wings of the Army of Solamnia are closing in on the city. They might even be within sight of the walls by now.”

“Shouldn’t you tell people, then?” she asked. “I’m sure there would be rejoicing. Everyone would be happy about that.”

“Whether the people of Palanthas are happy is not my concern,” he said with a shrug. His eyes met hers as he reached into a pocket of his tunic. “I have a gift for you. From Solanthus.”

She was thrilled. “But… how in all Krynn did you-?”

“Here,” he said, reaching into a fold of his tunic.

He pulled out a small bundle of white gauze and handed it to Selinda. She carefully unfolded the material to find a pair of elegant gloves with lace extending far up the wearer’s forearms. She gasped with delight and pulled first one, then the other onto her hands.

“They’re beautiful!” she cried. She leaped to her feet, dashed around the small table, and embraced him. “I love them!”

“Good. I was thinking of you while I was there and wanted to bring you something so that you would know that.” He stood, gently easing out of her hug, just as someone knocked on the door and quickly opened it.

“Marie!” snapped Selinda, looking around in dismay to see her maid’s head poking through the widening aperture.

“Begging your ladyship’s pardon,” the girl said. She was wide eyed as she curtsied. “It’s the lord inquisitor. He wishes to see you-claims it’s very important! He’s here, right outside-”

The servant was interrupted as the dour, hawk-faced cleric pushed past her. “My dear princess,” he declared haughtily. “The hour is nigh upon midnight! I beg of you to consider your reputation, your standing in this fair city. You cannot allow this man to remain here! I fear considerable damage has already been done to your prestige. If you won’t send him away for your own sake, think about your father!” The inquisitor turned stiffly to regard the lord marshal. “I beg you, my lord, leave immediately.”

Jaymes stared at the priest with an expression of wry amusement on his face. Selinda, however, glared at him in fury. “How dare you intrude here? Does my father know?”

“It is your father, dear child, who sent me,” Frost replied mildly.

“Where is he? I’m going to speak to him immediately!”

“You will find him in his private drawing room, I believe. I suggest you go there at once.”

Selinda didn’t even take time to throw on a shawl. She rushed toward the door, pushed past the cleric, and started through the palace hall. She didn’t glance back, didn’t notice Jaymes Markham and Inquisitor Frost eyeing each other very carefully indeed.

“Good evening, my lord,” said the cleric… eventually. He bowed stiffly.

“Actually, let us walk together,” the lord marshal said, brushing past the inquisitor then turning to beckon him with a wave. “It’s time we all went and had a talk with the lord regent.”

“Father, you had no business sending the inquisitor to my apartments!” Selinda declared hotly as soon as she had entered the drawing room, trailed by one of the two guards.

“I’m sorry, Excellency!” the guard apologized. “I told her you couldn’t be-”

“That’s all right, Roland. You may go now. Good evening, my dear,” said du Chagne coolly, rising from his chair beside the dark hearth. “I can see that you’re upset, but surely you will understand that it was for your own good.”

“I see nothing of the sort!” she retorted. “We were having a pleasant dinner, and poor Jaymes is terribly weary from the war, from his travels. We were doing nothing wrong!”

“Of course not, child. I trust you implicitly. But you know how people talk!”

“Let them talk,” she replied, drawing herself to her full height-she was an inch taller than her father. “I’ll have something to say to them when the time is right, but for now I will say it to you in private.”

“Yes?” the regent said warily.

“I intend to marry that man,” she announced. “And there is nothing you can do to stop me!”

Her father took the news surprisingly well, she thought. He merely gave her a sharp look and sat down in his chair again. Father and daughter both turned to the door as it opened abruptly, allowing Jaymes and the lord inquisitor to enter the room.

“What are you doing here?” du Chagne demanded of the lord marshal.

“Time is short; I need to return to the front. This is no time to stand on ceremony. We might as well get some matters settled right now,” Jaymes replied evenly.

“What matters are those?”

“Your daughter and I intend to be married.”

“She was just now telling me something about that,” du Chagne replied dryly.

“Did she tell you that the ceremony is going to take place tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? Impossible!” This, at last, brought the lord regent to his feet, his face purpling. As for the lord inquisitor, he looked stunned and at a loss for words.

“Tomorrow!” cried Selinda, astonished and as pleased as her father was shocked. She threw her arms around Jaymes’s neck and hugged him close. “Yes-it must be so!”

“There’s no way the arrangements can be made so quickly,” the lord inquisitor interposed, forcing himself to sound reasonable. “There are auguries to be made; an auspicious date must be determined. And of course, this is a matter of high statecraft and diplomacy-surely you’ll want to have representatives from the other Solamnic realms, at least? And Sancrist? The Grand Master himself will certainly wish to be present!”

“There’s no time for that, for any of that,” Jaymes responded curtly. “The campaign is at a crucial stage, and I must return to my army at once.”

“Why not get married when matters in the field have been resolved?” Inquisitor Frost asked after a long pause, finally finding his voice.

“Because this marriage is a key step in the ultimate victory of my army,” Jaymes replied firmly.

“I should think you’d have more important things to do than to argue this matter while your troops are still on the battlefield and the enemy is ringed around Solanthus!” Lord Regent du Chagne declared. “Ankhar remains a formidable opponent.”

Jaymes shrugged. “I have his measure. He’s formidable, indeed, but so am I. This fight won’t take much longer. But I am here to make two demands of you.”

“Demands?” The lord regent’s eyebrows rose in an expression of disdain. “Aren’t you busy enough, fighting a battle for the future of Solamnia? What else do you want besides the hand of my daughter? I suppose you’d like a dowry, a gift of gold as well!”

“I am not interested in your gold. But I am risking my army on the field of battle. Indeed, I am risking my life. I am fairly confident that my passing would not be terribly mourned by your lordship.”

Du Chagne gestured impatiently for Jaymes to get to the point.

“Two things: One, your daughter will marry me tomorrow-you see yourself that she wants it to be so and has agreed. The wedding will take place immediately… before I return to the plains.”

Du Chagne’s jaw tightened, but he said merely, “And the other demand?”

“Lord Frankish commanded the Palanthian Legion. You will recall, the general challenged me, and he paid for that mistake with his life. I believe his legion is currently without a commanding officer. I claim the legion in lieu of a dowry. There is no one more deserving of that post, no one more appropriate to command your private army.”

The lord regent appeared to consider the stakes very carefully before he spoke tersely. “Very well. You shall have the legion. Now get out of here, and let me speak to my daughter and my high priest. There is much that we have to arrange.”

Jaymes was already heading toward the door.