Year 580 of the Emperor
Darkness consumed the landscape, a single clusters of tents forming the only rebellion against the night. It stood in the centre of an open plain, a river carving it's way to the northern waters of Loche Aberdeene and to the west was a small clump of oak trees. Within these trees Brandon sat upon his horse, his fingers flexing on the hilt of his sword. Around him stood a squadron of cavalrymen from Tremaine. His investigations had led him to find the Oestron mercenaries camped just beyond the eastern border of Carrickshire. By their appearance they had been here for some time. He guessed their reserves were dropping and from their exposed position either they were arrogant enough to think they would not be attacked or inexperienced enough to not consider an ambush as a threat.
"Shall I give the order, my lord?" the captain asked. Brandon watched the mercenaries for a moment longer. The sun broke over the horizon and shards of light broke through the morning mist which gathered in the lowlands around Loche Aberdeene. Brandon nodded. Together they drew their swords and the squad around them followed suit. Slowly at first they began to ride out from the trees, gathering speed. At only a few dozen feet away they broke into a gallop. The Captain let out a war cry just as they breached the edge of the camp and together they smashed into the tents and trampled hte occupants beneath their hoofs.
***
Brandon sat by the fire, tugging at the meat from the chicken bone in his hands as he looked out across the water. The sun had risen now and the soldiers had finished stacking the last of the Oestron Mercenaries on the pyre and had now began to take stock of the supplies. As Brandon took another bite the captain approached him.
"My lord, we found this," he handed a small book to him. "I'm not that fluent in Oestron, but from what I could gather it appears their leader was killed in a mutiny after the attempt on your life failed. The others were attempting to return to the Imperial Sea."
"Does it say who hired them?" The captain shook his head.
"As I said, I'm not that good at reading Oestron, but from what I could make out it does not mention them." Brandon took it and flicked through the pages. He could not read any Oestron, but he could see where the handwriting changed, presumably after the mutiny.
"What of the supplies?"
"They were running out of food, as you suspected, probably the cause of the mutiny especially if they hadn't been paid. We found some scattered coins so probably they were not." Brandon frowned, then a smile crossed this face.
"They haven't been paid..." his mind raced as he concocted the plan. "But they mutinied, probably broke camp to move away...Captain, we passed a campsite a few miles back didn't we?"
"Aye sir, what of it?"
"Have the men break this camp and move it all back to that site. You will remain there and wait for the payment to come. I will return to Tremaine and have this book translated in case it holds any clues or further instructions. If we're lucky, their employer might return to them."
***
Brandon and Lord Cunningham stood in the library of the school as the Librarian read through the last pages of the journal. Finally he straightened up and addressed them.
"There is no name, but it says payment was being withheld until they had completed their mission."
"So there was a mutiny over payment," Lord Cunningham nodded.
"So it would seem. I can only assume the mission was Lord Carnoustie's capture."
"Capture?" Brandon asked.
"Yes, the journal is very clear; their orders were to capture you alive." Silence fell for a moment, then Brandon asked tentatively.
"Was it only me they were to capture? No one else?"
"Only your name was mentioned." The librarian nodded. Lord Cunningham cleared his throat as he considered the knowledge.
"So they still need me captured..." Brandon trailed off. "Does it state what they are to do when they have me?" the librarian frowned as he looked again at the journal, then shook his head.
"No, but I can keep looking and see what I can find." Brandon nodded for his to proceed then he and Lord Cunningham turned to leave. Just then their was a knock at the door and a runner boy threw himself into the room. He dropped to one knee and raised a hand, a scruffy and torn parchment in his palm.
"From Dunn, my lord." he said simply. Brandon frowned, took the parchment and read it swiftly. His face turned pale and he lowered his hands slowly.
"What is it?" Lord Cunningham asked, but Brandon only handed him the parchment. As Lord Cunningham read Brandon said only "Leave us." The boy stood and hurried from the room. "You too," the librarian stood, bowed, and left, taking the book with him. Lord Cunningham read the parchment in silence.
"What does this mean?" Lord Cunningham asked.
"It mean we've run out of time." Brandon said simply. "They've capture Lord Murrison. Sooner or later they will have the location of Lord Felandrison."
"Then what do we do?" they both stood in silence for a moment.
"We have no choice. Lord Felandrison must be moved. If they get to him before us his life, and the line of Felandrison, is forfeit."
"But if we go they may follow us." Lord Cunningham objected.
"No, if I go they may follow," Brandon corrected him. "The orders only said to capture me, not you. These mercenaries at least do not know about you."
"But if they've capture Lord Murrison whoever hired them might." Lord Cunningham objected. "For all we know there is a third party who are after only me." Silence fell again before Brandon cursed.
"Our enemy is organised, they are cunning, and they have the advantage of secrecy..." He thought for a moment, then straightened. "We must place our trust in another. We are all three of us compromised. Anyone in Tremaine acting under our orders might be equally as compromised."
"We need to get Lord Felandrison somewhere safe," Lord Cunningham continued. "We also need to unmask our enemies, draw them out."
"If he can get the location of the drop off point," Brandon thought allowed, jerking his head to the door to indicate the librarian, "Then we can fake my capture and lure them out that way."
"What of Lord Felandrison?" Brandon thought for a moment longer, then nodded to himself.
"You will go to Sigh glen on a routine trade discussion. Enlist the help of their elders, I know Hemariah was always loyal to the Felandrisons. We must appeal to him for his help. The Aethen must go to Lord Felandrison." Lord Cunningham stood slowly and walked to him.
"Are you certain, we have kept this secret for fifty years...to relinquish it, and not even to a human..."
"The Aethen are allies of Perth," Brandon nodded, "If it is the Pyrencians we are against, it may not be an option they anticipate. I think we have no choice now."
***
The sun was setting in the valley south of Tremaine. The captain of the squadron had dressed in the armour of one of the Oestron invaders, as had the other soldiers. Brandon stood with his hands behind his back, rope tied in knots around his wrists but loose enough for him to shake them off at a moment's notice. He stood slumped slightly and with red ochre paste over one cheek. In the gathering darkness if appeared as a bruise across his face. His knife was again at his back, hidden beneath a cloak, but his sword was in the hands of one of the other guards.
The cool evening made him shiver. He would have preferred to wait for the librarian to decipher enough of the journal to figure out who they were facing, but with the capture of Lord Murrison they did not have the luxury of time. The guard captain held his arm in a tight grip, occasionally shaking him a little in an attempt to pull off the appearance of the Oestron invader.
"One O'clock," one of the guards said quietly. They all straightened, casting their eyes forward. A small group of four stepped out from around the cliff face and were making their way toward them. They were dressed in dark cloaks, indistinct and common. they waited impatiently for the strangers to approach. Finally they stopped a few feet away. The lead figure stepped forward.
"I am pleased to see you have brought him," it was an older voice, light and almost mystical. Brandon tried to look up to catch a glimpse of his face, but in his current position he could not see it easily.
"We made an agreement didn' we?" the captain asked roughly, imitating the Oestron accent. He had spent some time on the eastern coast of Perth and had the most experience of dealing with Oestron.
"we did," the man said, a smile playing in his voice. He gestured to one of his comrades who stepped forward and offered a large burlap sack. It clinked as the captain took it. He handed it to one of the other guards, who took it to the back and began to count.
"You'll find it's all there, all four thousand gold pieces." The leader said, almost mockingly, but Brandon did not hear him; his eyes were fixed on the sleeve of the man who had offered the gold. Beneath the sleeve of the cloak was a dark blue fabric, he recognised it but the thought made his heart stop. Such was his confusion he continued to stare as the man stepped back. The Captain noticed and tried to disguise it by pushing his roughly.
"Calm yourself!" He yelled, pulled him back to him, feigning a struggle. Brandon played along and the captain hit the back of his leg, forcing him to his knees. Brandon grunted, then threw his head back and looked up at the leader. The man before him stared down at him. He had never met him before, only heard of him, heard the description of the man who now held his life in the palm of his hand. Despite the knowledge of his own trap, and of his guards, and of the knife at his back, he could not help but feel fear grip him.
***
Lord Cunningham stepped down from his horse and motioned for the guards to do likewise. He barked orders to unload the stone from the carts before turning to a woman who approached from the store rooms. Night was falling and he could feel the tug of sleepiness, yet the knowledge of his true mission kept him alert.
"Lord Cunningham," she smiled as she bowed. "I am Lady Geldrid. My father, Lord Hemariah is preoccupied with a previous transaction and has asked me to greet you."
"My lady," Lord Cunningham bowed. "I would really rather speak with your father; it is a matter of import."
"I am sorry, but he is not available. He will return in the morning. He has asked me to deal with you this evening." Lady Geldrid explained. Her voice was firm and gave no option to dispute her words, so Lord Cunningham accepted and followed her into the office she had come from. They took their seats on either side of a desk and Lady Geldrid lit a few more candles to keep back the gathering darkness.
"So I understand you are here to negotiate a new term for the trade of you diorite?" She asked.
"My lady, might I be brief," she gestured for him to proceed. "The true nature of my mission here is much more important. I must ask for the help of the Aethen, which is why I would prefer to speak with your father, one of the elders."
"I am afraid he is not in Sigh Glen currently. This is why he asked me to meet with you instead. I give you my word, I will take your words to the elders if it requires their approval." She offered. Lord Cunningham sighed heavily, then swallowed before proceeding.
"Do you know of the Duke of Carrickshire, a family known as Felandrison?" Lady Geldrid stared at him for a long moment.
"I do," she said at last.
"Then you also know of their demise fifty year ago, when the castle of Tremaine was destroyed."
"Indeed. It is common knowledge, along with the knowledge that the house was destroyed in that fire." Lord Cunningham licked his lips at this.
"I'm afraid, that common knowledge is not quite accurate." He began slowly. "There was another who survived. Ronan, son of Helori, had a son. The boy was pulled from the fire and his existence kept secret. Only a handful of others know any of this. I would not speak of it with you unless I had no other choice, however we are facing an enemy who has threatened lord Felandrison. I must ask your help. The Aethen are separate from the schemes of this matter, and we need a trusted ally to find Lord Felandrison and take him deeper into hiding."
Lady Geldrid considered his words for a long moment. Finally she stood and walked to the window. She stood still for a moment longer, then turned to him.
"You ask the Aethen to risk our lives to save a forgotten nobleman who has never known us, never known our struggles?"
"I ask the Aethen to help protect the rightful Duke of Carrickshire." She looked away for a moment, then nodded slowly.
"I think it was best you came to me. The elders are set in their ways and would never have considered such a plot. But I am not my father, and I understand the importance of bringing the Perthians and the Aethen closer together. I believe this may be exactly the kind of thing that will help in this venture. Tell me, where is the Duke hidden?"
"We took him to the town of Innean, in the Ilminite Coast." Lord Cunningham said quickly, hardly believing she might actually be willing to help.
"Innean," she said quietly. "Yes...I know it." She placed a hand on the shelf behind her desk and drew her fingers over the wood carefully. "What name does he go by?"
"He was called Harris, though his real name was Ferris. He would be fifty now, last I heard he had taken over the sheep farm in Innean, that was the family we left him with." Gildred nodded slowly.
"Harris, the sheep herder..." she trailed off, then drew a dagger from the shelf and turned to him. "I must say, when my father got the message the Oestrons had actually capture Lord Carnoustie I could barely believe it, but now I see you here I understand it must be true; no other news could make you so desperate to come to me for help." Lord Cunningham's eyes widened. He stood suddenly and she dived at him. He kicked the desk and it struck her middle, forcing her back. He rushed for the door and threw it open. He saw the Perth guards struggling against the Aethen, locked in combat. Several lay dead across the forest floor already. He ran forward and grabbed the sword from one Aethen, knocking him over and parried the blow from Gildred as she chased him.
The horses cried in desperation, pulling on their reigns to flee the fighting as Lord Cunningham did his best to deflect the Aethen's blows. He was not a very good swordsman, and she was clearly practised with a dagger at close quarters so he quickly lost ground. She caught his cheek and forced him back to his own men. the Aethen had them surrounded on all sides. To their backs stood the walls of the stables. Only five other Perthians still stood, three guards, a stone worker, and a boy who was responsible for looking after the horses. Lord Cunningham glanced behind him and saw a slim opening in the stable wall.
"Cover me," he ordered, then lifted the boy and pushed him feet first through the gap. "Grab a horse, go to Lord Carnosutie. Warn him it isn't the Pyrencian's, the Aethen want Ferris Felandrison dead. They know where he is. Brandon must ride for Innean. Go!" the boy nodded, then jumped down into the stable. Lord Cunningham turned in time to see Lady Gildred lunge for him, two sodliers already fallen behind him. He raised the sword and the steel clashed.
***
Brandon stood over the fallen Aethen. His guards had taken out the three others while he had sliced the leader's leg and kicked him down. Now he knelt over Lord Hemariah, the elder of the Aethen settlement, and rested a hand on his chest.
"Why?" he asked, frowning.
"Why?" he mimicked, smiling. "You humans think Perth if yours. Long before Scrios founded this kingdom, we Aethen lived in these lands."
"But I thought you were loyal to Felandrison?" He dying man barked with laughter, then spluttered and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth.
"The House of Felandrison," he began, "built the monstrosity you call Tremaine. They brought Perthians south, they disrupted our way of life. You Perthians have such selective memories. You do not remember the insanity of that line. Ferris, Felandris himself, even your namesake, Brandon. They have brought nothing but misery to the south. When I learned there was another Felandrison I knew I had to act, to stamp out the disease before it could return."
"How did you find out about Ferris?"
"Ferris?" Hemariah asked, "You mean...there is another?" Brandon's eyes widened.
"Whom do you speak of? You're dying! It makes no difference now just tell me!" Hemariah laughed again, his voice garbled by blood as he pulled Brandon closer. He could feel the warm flecks of blood touch his skin as the dying elf spoke.
"Ainmire...the Pyrencian..."
_________________ Ainmire Sera-Blodh of House Flenadrison, second of his name, King in the South, Ruler of Carrickshire, and slayer of false Kings. "The Crippled King" "Flanders"
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