Arcane Mercenaries: Insurrection, page 16
Ez spotted the sentries patrolling the dirt paths and farmers’ trails long before Grant. They called out to nearby soldiers as Grant and Ez approached on horseback. Grant slowed Hope to a walk and kept his hands clear of his weapons as they approached.
“Mercenaries looking for work,” Grant shouted toward the soldiers. The Megenland dialect effortlessly came back to him.
The guards pointed the way to the camp and let them pass without further questioning.
“Do you remember which way they pointed?” Grant asked as they passed out of earshot, nudging Hope toward the “wrong” part of camp. Soldiers for hire lived in separate camps on the outskirts of the main defenses. Few wanted to be associated with the mercenaries, but no one questioned riders moving toward the tents with pennants.
Grant slouched lower in his saddle, mimicking the exhaustion of harried messengers and scouts making their way to and from the camp’s center.
The area near the duke’s position matched the military precision of Alenann’s camps. Evenly spaced tents lined roads, and every two tents shared a fire pit stocked with wood. Soldiers played cards from seats in hewn logs, but their weapons were correctly stacked and ready for immediate use. Guards wearing mail and carrying their weapons patrolled the paths between the tents. This was the core of a professional army, and it worried Grant.
Ez pointed out wagons far away from the open flames and beyond the edge of the tents. Teams of guards watched the boxes and barrels stored in shallow pits. Grant was very familiar with the safety precautions of storing gunpowder and firearms. The Kingmaker was ready.
As they passed the rows of standard tents housing thousands of skilled soldiers, Grant straightened his posture from exhausted cavalry scout and assumed the role of official messenger too busy to be stopped by sentries. His destination was the field covered with tents of varying sizes and aglow with unique colors, like wildflowers clustered together.
Smiths and leatherworkers worked on the opposite side of the camp from the firearms. Stacks of breastplates, helmets, greaves, and gloves waited for the careful attention of the skilled workers. Apprentices pumped the bellows to keep the flames hot as they worked into the evening hours.
Grant estimated that Duke Ardwick gathered hundreds of knights and minor nobles to his cause. Servants rushed to set up new tents as close to the others as possible. The ten thousand estimate might be too low.
“You recognize that?” Ez pointed toward a distant tent. It was white, not uncommon for the nobility, and an evening fire already illuminated the flaps near the entrance.
Grant shook his head.
“The pennant, Grant. The church.”
The church established a worship tent three dozen yards from the duke’s tent. Two smaller tents nearby flew the same flag and would be the home of the camp’s chaplains. It wasn’t uncommon in many organizations, but it was a stark difference from Dominick’s base. After reviewing the books at the foundries, Grant worried the church offered more than spiritual guidance.
They might need to get closer to those wagons.
Ez nudged his arm before he could guide Hope closer to the makeshift arsenal.
“That one coming out,” Ez said, pointing toward the duke’s tent. “You recognize him?”
Grant didn’t have Ez’s abilities, and the priests looked the same at this distance. He grabbed the saddle horn and threw his leg over his mount.
“He works for Dominick,” Ez growled.
“You sure?”
Ez threw him a disgusted look. “Never been surer.”
The church weaponry had to wait. Grant had to get back to Dominick before the priest returned.
29
DIVIDE
Grant’s instincts screamed to intercept the priest before he reached Dominick’s camp. A good interrogation might reveal the web of spies within the prince’s inner circle, and no one would miss the priest if he disappeared on the road to Dominick’s camp. He couldn’t let his hatred of the church blind his logic.
Hope sensed his frustration and churned the soft earth. Hooves pounded, and Grant leaned lower in the saddle as the wind whipped through his beard. Rider and mount risked breakneck speed and bounded over low stone walls. They swerved as one to bypass the obstacles in the road.
The miles flashed in a blur of green and brown, and Grant relished the physical exertion as Hope bounded across the distance. He never glanced to see if Ez kept up, knowing by instinct she would be there when he needed her.
Grant relaxed his grip on the reins and allowed Hope to settle into a walk. Both were soaked in sweat as Grant rose from his racing posture and stretched his back. He adjusted his sword as it crammed into his ribs and checked on Ez prodding her mount to match Grant’s pace.
At this distance, he could make out the flickering fires of Dominick’s camp.
The priest’s disloyalty to Dominick burned in Grant’s veins. The young prince fought for a better future, and the cleric was ready to betray him to the queen. Or the duke.
The priest’s loyalty might also belong to Cardinal Wallner. The church’s grip on Ismore tightened with the deepening alliance between the queen and the church. Tytus Gornick had church sponsorship and an order in the queen’s foundry.
Grant hesitated.
“Did we win the race?” Ez asked as she pulled alongside him. She looked over her shoulder and pretended to lift her hand to cover her eyes from the sun that had set an hour ago. “Trying to find the closest competitor, but I think we won by more than a few lengths.”
“I needed to think,” Grant said.
“At the speed of a thundering gallop?” Ez asked and patted her horse’s neck. “I think we could’ve shared a few words if Hope wasn’t so eager to be faster than your thoughts.”
“It’s the priest, Wallner, the duke, the queen,” Grant said, fumbling with the words as he muttered the names. The jumble of thoughts clouded his thinking, and Dominick would expect a report after their disappearance. He didn’t know what he would say.
He wanted to advise the young ruler to banish the priests from the camp and hang the betrayer as an example to the others. But Dominick wasn’t Sina—he still had ties to the church. Connections that he would need if he took the crown.
“That’s a long list. Want to share some thoughts?” Ez asked.
“What do we do about the priest?”
“Tell Dominick and Catrin,” Ez said as if it was the only logical solution. Her matter-of-fact tone pulled him out of his contemplation.
“I’ve been thinking through this for hours, and you’re just going to sit there and say ‘tell the boss’?”
“Yeah,” Ez said. “People come to me with military, logistical, leadership, and tactical problems. Most of the time, I send them away to find solutions with the tools they already have. Sometimes, I can offer a few words of advice or give them the few resources I know you would give them. For the big stuff, I send them to you.”
“So this is big stuff,” Grant said. He didn’t know what Ez did in the day-to-day operations of their outfit, but he was humbled by the dedication and loyalty of his officers. It was far more than loyalty or commitment with Ez.
“Biggest stuff, Grant. The church picked sides in this conflict, and they sided with the queen. No surprise, right? Dominick has some new StarTouched friends, and they probably know Sina courted the young man ages ago. The queen is no friend to the church, but Dominick was ready to cast out the church and throw full support behind Sina’s claim to Alenann’s throne. No reason to think the church would ever support the young man.”
“He’s a spy,” Grant said.
Ez shrugged. “That’s why it’s Dominick’s decision. As king, he must define his relationship with the church. As an insurgent, he must decide how much he needs their support, although we know it will be minimal. Those are his decisions, not ours.”
“You make this so easy,” Grant said.
Ez smiled. “Someday, you might even learn a thing or two.”
They urged their horses toward the waiting camp and approached the invisible sentries, undoubtedly watching their arrival. Someone must have recognized them as no arrows whistled their way, and no one shouted orders at them.
Grant led them back to the prince’s tent and paused long enough to give detailed instructions to the stablehands to care for their horses. Hope earned a good rest after the pounding ride to get Grant ahead of the priest’s return.
He waved off the sentries at Dominick’s tent flap and let his spurs jingle as he strode into the room. As soon as he walked in, he realized he looked like a soldier who had just thundered across dozens of miles. His tabard and beard had mud splotches, and his hauberk rattled as he walked into the midst of the future leaders of Ismore.
“Captain, the prince is in a meeting with the nobles,” Dominick’s chief of staff said, placing a hand on Grant’s chest to stop his advance deeper into the tent.
Grant raised an eyebrow and looked down at the hand. The chief quickly withdrew it as if he touched flames, and Grant stepped past the man toward the circle of officers and nobles gathered around a table. He looked at the group and noted a pair of priests staring at the work.
His belly lurched when he saw the unusual interest from the clergy in military matters. He hadn’t considered more than one priest betraying Dominick.
Grant cleared his throat and interrupted the briefer in mid-sentence. All eyes in the room shifted toward the new arrivals, and the priests glared at him. Maybe he was reading too much into their interest, but they faded deeper into the shadows as Grant advanced.
Catrin was remarkably absent.
“It’s been a few days, Grant. I summoned you earlier for the meeting, but it appears you were on the road,” Dominick said to the chagrin of the briefer and several nobles. The prince had a playful smile as he looked at Grant’s travel-stained uniform.
“We came from the duke’s camp,” Grant said.
Several officers reached for their swords, and Grant chuckled at the futile gesture. Did they imagine he would enter the tent, declare his new loyalty to the queen, and attack the prince?
“We have scouts watching them,” one of Dominick’s nobles said.
“No, we came from inside the camp,” Ez said. “Talked to the soldiers, checked the tents of the leadership, the usual stuff.”
“Your legend of audacity grows each day, Grant,” Dominick said, casting aside the disbelief of the other nobles and senior officers. “What did you find?”
“Duke Ardwick has nearly a thousand knights and nobles—“
Grant couldn’t finish the sentence with the sounds around the table and the conversations rumbling in disbelief. They had to understand the danger.
Dominick held up his hands for silence. “That’s double what we’re hearing.”
“There are more arriving,” Ez said. “They’re pitching more tents, and servants are running around everywhere. If the Kingmaker has any favors left, he’s calling them all in.”
“What does that change for our plans?” Dominick asked his senior advisers.
No one dared to look at the man.
Grant stepped up to the table and looked at the latest iteration of battle plans. He slammed his fist into the table with enough force to spill two ink bottles and send quills flying. A touch of StarTouched energy worked wonders to get their attention.
“If you want a decisive battle against the duke’s forces, you’ll get it and lose,” Grant said, pointing at the proposed battle lines. “Stop thinking about your glory and ransoms and start planning a victory. Ardwick has firearms but no cannon, and he has a lot of knights eager to capture all of you.”
“What do you propose?” Dominick asked. He held his hands up for silence as rival discussions broke out across the tent.
Grant waited until the future king regained control before speaking. “The same thing you did for years. Strike them in unexpected places, force them to spread out their forces, and don’t give them an easy target. Retreat when it looks bad, and use your light forces to your advantage.”
“Fight like cowards,” one of the senior nobles scoffed.
“Fight like you have a way to win,” Ez said, staring the man down.
“Do we have a day to think about it?” Dominick asked, and Grant marveled at the young man’s patience. The best thing a leader needed to do was take the right amount of time to make a decision. Nothing had to happen tonight.
Grant nodded. “The duke is still collecting forces. You have time.”
“Then we’ll adjourn this meeting for tonight as we all think about what Captain Gwydian presented to us. Let’s all remember the great personal risk he and his lieutenant took to bring us this information.”
Dominick walked across the room, avoiding conversations with people that wanted to bend his ear to give their impressions of the military situation. He smiled and moved away with the precision of a trained regent.
“Thank you for bringing this to me. With Catrin’s help, I thought we could defeat a larger force,” Dominick said, leading Grant and Ez out of his tent into the embrace of the night’s chilly air. They walked away from the large fires near the command tents, and no guards moved to follow them through the camp.
“Where’s Catrin?” Grant asked.
“She disappeared, just like you did,” Dominick said. “It’s not uncommon for her, though, and I assumed the StarTouched were off doing what they do. Appears I was right.”
Grant appreciated the young man’s honesty and faith in their abilities.
“The church is slipping your plans to the duke’s army,” Grant said. “There’s a priest, maybe more than one, traveling between the camps.”
Dominick’s poise cracked as he cursed and kicked a nearby stump. He threw his gloves to the ground until he carefully regained his composure.
“Catrin warned me the church would be a fickle ally.”
“They aren’t allies,” Ez said. “Not as long as you keep Catrin and us around. They’ll undermine your efforts and try to tear us down from within.”
“What do I do about my spies?”
Grant shook his head. “Start by limiting the briefings. Too many people think they have the right to sit and listen to your deliberations. Get rid of them, not just the priests. Small groups, small discussions. Just issue orders.”
“I can limit, but I can’t remove everyone. People joining this revolution are risking everything for me, and they expect to be part of the decision-making. I can’t say that I blame them.”
“It’s time to start separating your reign from the church,” Grant said. He was a terrible person to give political advice, but he knew the dangers facing the young regent.
“Done,” Dominick said. “Now I have to figure out how to defeat a capable commander with the full backing of the queen.”
30
OFFENSIVE
Grant peered through the fog hanging over the battlefield and thickening in the low-lying areas. Distant soldiers labored to move the ancient stone walls. The still air carried the pinging of shovels as they struggled to build trenches as a rudimentary defense against the assault they feared coming through the gray mists.
Catrin’s magic smothered the battlefield, allowing Dominick’s forces to maneuver without observation. Her magic was everywhere, but no one from Dominick’s army complained.
The magical gloom had a strange effect on sounds. Dominick’s heavy infantry thundered ten times larger than its actual size, but Grant couldn’t detect the movement of heavy knights and their armored steeds repositioning to a distant flank. Catrin’s manipulation of the environment was masterful.
The moisture had the additional effect of neutralizing the duke’s artillery and muskets. Their scouts hadn’t seen gathering arms, but Grant’s view of the armory and the orders from the foundries meant they should take the best precautions.
Catrin gave Ez an incredible gift, a container that would keep her powder dry, and the Mage of the Mists extended this influence to Dominick’s archers. She had perfected this technique during the early days of the civil war, and it sent ripples of excitement through the ranged units.
Grant focused his glass on the duke’s officers and non-commissioned officers. They shouted encouragement and moved along the lines of soldiers. Several leaders picked up spades and flung earth alongside their troops. Grant scanned the lines for signs of the nobility. They wouldn’t climb into the trenches.
He pushed his spyglass closed and turned toward the collection of tents behind their lines. The morning strategy meetings were for show these days. Dominick suffered the advice of fools and their dreams of glorious charges into the duke’s front lines. Grant was a lightning rod of controversy as he challenged every foolish idea before it could catch momentum from the other glory seekers. There would be no meeting today.
What would the priests and spies report to the duke? Grant smiled. It was all for show as Dominick’s inner circle maintained their secrecy and built their plans.
New forces answered the duke’s call, and scouts reported the arriving heraldry to the disdain of Dominick’s recent arrivals. The new knights and swelling heavy infantry could swing a heavy hammer against Dominick’s rebels.
Dominick, Grant, and Ez worked well past midnight to issue orders by daybreak. The inner circle of planners asked hard questions and challenged assumptions, the signs of a skilled staff comfortable with their leadership. When Dominick made up his mind, the time for questioning was over, and the team got to work building orders.
The plan relied heavily on the powers of the StarTouched to tip the scales. That didn’t settle well with anyone.
The nearby smokestacks belched their fumes and filled the skies with forbidding ash. Catrin added her abilities to the smog, creating a damp murkiness that penetrated everything. Duke Ardwick had to know about the Mage of Mists in Dominick’s camp, but he couldn’t do anything about the weather.
Some units received orders in the middle of the night to march to new positions, and others received their requirements long after daybreak. Grant knew the priests would uncover the movements as units marched to form new lines against the duke’s advance. The critical orders were for Dominick’s most loyal units to straddle the lines of communication and deny movement to and from the camp.
