"Little did we realize how fast and great our rise would be when last we passed this city's gates," Aydrian said triumphantly to De'Unnero and Sadye as they and Duke Kalas rode beside him into the city of Entel. The ride across Honce-the-Bear had been easy and most gratifying, with crowds lining every way to cheer for the new king. What a testament to Duke Kalas' influence and strength, Aydrian had realized, for the man had securely locked up the entirety of the southern kingdom in Aydrian's name, with but two notable exceptions: Pireth Tulme to the north, upon which Duke Kalas' armies were even then descending, and St.-Mere-Abelle, to the north and west.
The side trip to Entel had been Kalas' idea, mostly to check on Abbot Olin's progress in the south and to ensure that this great city, more populated than Palmaris, even, remained firmly under control during Abbot Olin's absence. The Abellican Church had always been strong here, but strong in two separate factions. St. Bondabruce, the great abbey, had long held firm under Abbot Olin and his preoccupation with Behren, while the smaller and older abbey, St. Rontlemore, had stayed more a friend to the line of Ursal and the Abellican Church proper, more closely tied to St.-Mere-Abelle.
Duke Kalas had feared that St. Rontlemore might be using Olin's absence to gain a stronger foothold in Entel, but if that was in any way the case, then the welcome for King Aydrian did not show it! Thousands turned out, the whole city it seemed, waving red kerchiefs, as had become the custom for greeting the young king, and all the state flags flying over the main houses of power, the lords' mansions, St. Bondabruce, and St.
Rontlemore, were the newer version, the bear and tiger rampant, facing off over the evergreen symbol of the Church.
"St. Rontlemore has shown great wisdom in this," De'Unnero remarked when he noted that banner over the ancient abbey.
"Because Duke Kalas has so completely cut them off from St.-Mere-Abelle,"
Aydrian replied. "Their mother abbey has deserted them, as far as they can tell."
"I do not trust in their loyalty," Duke Kalas admitted. "The brothers of St. Rontlemore might be pragmatic more than wise, and if that is so, they likely hold the old flag of the Ursal line ready to hoist should the situation change."
"We need not worry over that once St.-Mere-Abelle has fallen," Aydrian remarked, and he looked to De'Unnero, who nodded his agreement and couldn't hide just a bit of a grin.
"I have long sent word to Duke Bretherford in the south," Duke Kalas said. "I expect that Abbot Olin will be here to greet us, or that he will soon arrive."
"Not soon enough, if he is not already here," said De'Unnero. "We have left a dangerous foe behind us in St.-Mere-Abelle, and with spring fast warming the winter trails, Prince Midalis might not be far behind."
"Palmaris is well defended, as is Ursal," Duke Kalas strongly replied, as if he had taken the words as an affront.
"Nothing would please me more than to hear that Midalis and St.-Mere- Abelle were both now attacking Palmaris," said Aydrian. "Let them play their hands."
"Midalis will not be without support, wherever he arrives," warned De'Unnero.
"Wherever that may be, I will crush him," Aydrian assured the man.
Aydrian didn't miss Duke Kalas' slight grimace at that remark; he understood the duke's reluctance. Prince Midalis had been his friend for a long time, after all, and the brother of the man who had been Kalas' dearest companion for many years. But it did not matter, Aydrian knew.
Duke Kalas would not flee his side when Midalis arrived.
"And the sooner we are rid of him, the sooner I can secure the kingdom in total and turn my attention toward helping Abbot Olin finish off the Behrenese," Aydrian went on. "Then where, I wonder? To To-gai in the far southwest? To the cold lands of Alpinador?"
He stopped as they pulled their horses up in front of the great iron gates of the fence surrounding St. Bondabruce. They were warmly welcomed by a host of eager brothers and led into the main audience chamber of Abbot Olin. It was a vast and airy space, not as cavernous as the audience halls of Castle Ursal perhaps, but actually more so than the tighter quarters of St.-Mere-Abelle, with its huddled architecture keeping it warm from the cold Mirianic winds. St.-Mere-Abelle was many times the size of St. Bondabruce, and held more than ten times the number of brothers. The treasures of the mother abbey were priceless, with gold- trimmed tapestries and ornamental chalices and artifacts from every age of the Abellican Church, and many more that even predated the old religion! In terms of wealth, gemstone cache, library, and artworks, St.
Bondabruce did not come close to comparing to St.-Mere-Abelle, nor did the Entel abbey have any of the more spectacular architectural items, like the ornate stained-glass window that looked out on All Saints Bay from the main keep in great St.-Mere- Abelle. But with the more hospitable southern climate, St. Bondabruce did not need the low ceilings of its northern sister abbey, so the place was anchored by soaring minarets. The ceiling in this audience chamber was no less than fifty feet high, all painted in the bright colors and designs more typical of Behren than Honce-the-Bear.
The furnishings also showed great Behrenese influence, with rich, brightly colored fabrics and airy net weaves across the wide backs of chairs. Abbot Olin had done much to influence that, they all understood, and seeing the place again only reminded Aydrian of how fully he had put Olin out of the way by sending him to his favored haunts in the south.
"King Aydrian," greeted an older, neatly trimmed man, moving out quickly from a side door in the audience hall. He rushed up before Aydrian, dipped a deep and polite bow, and motioned for the young king to take the abbot's throne seat as his own.
"Greetings, Master Mackaront," Aydrian replied, recognizing the man from their journeys to the southern waters, when De'Unnero and Aydrian had secured the services of the pirate, Maisha Darou, and his fleet. "Pray you go tell your Abbot Olin that we have arrived, and that time is of the essence."
Mackaront shifted somewhat nervously, a movement that none of the four visitors missed. "Abbot Olin remains in Jacintha," the man explained.
"The situation there is quite fluid, and he feared that leaving now could be detrimental to our purposes."
Aydrian studied the man carefully, then nodded and did sit down upon Olin's own chair. "Quite fluid?"
Mackaront glanced around and cleared his throat. "I assure you, King Aydrian, that Behren is secured," he began, trying to appear more confident than he sounded. "At least, the newer kingdom of Behren is now secure under the control of Yatol Mado Wadon, who is no more than the public voice of Abbot Olin. The tumult within Behren is as you believed, and Abbot Olin found his services required - at any price."
"But..." Aydrian prompted, for the words of victory hardly matched the man's nervous demeanor.
"In Behren's war with To-gai, concessions were made," Master Mackaront explained. "The city of Dharyan was given over to Brynn Dharielle and the To-gai-ru, and we have found a difficult time in... in getting it back."
Aydrian paused for a moment, then laughed aloud. "Abbot Olin has done battle with Brynn?"
"Through his emissary, Yatol De Hamman, yes."
Aydrian laughed again.
"Yatol De Hamman's march through the kingdom was a complete success," the stammering Mackaront added, obviously confused by the laughter. "Every city fell to Jacintha. Concerning the new incarnation of Behren, your dreams have been all but realized, and will be soon, I do not doubt, as Abbot Olin increases his hold over the populace. But the army is weary of battle, and has great fear of Brynn Dharielle, the Dragon of To-gai.
Thus, I was sent back to Entel, to find audience with you and bid you to spare more soldiers for Abbot Olin." "The force I have already given to him is considerable," Aydrian countered.
"But much of it involves the fleet, and that will be of little use inland against Dharyan-Dharielle," Master Mackaront explained. "Abbot Olin believes that with another five thousand Kingsmen, he can seize Dharyan- Dharielle within three weeks and complete the reunification of Behren."
"And then press on?" Aydrian asked.
"If Dharyan is recovered, the To-gai-ru will have little resistance to offer," Master Mackaront said hopefully. "If you were to send ten thousand instead of five, Abbot Olin could sweep all resistance from the steppes before the turn of the year! Such a victory, led by men of Honce- the-Bear, would also strengthen Abbot Olin's position in Jacintha. He could quickly make Yatol Mado Wadon fully irrelevant, and all the lands south of the Belt-and-Buckle would be yours."
"Hmm," the young king mused, dropping his chin into his hand. "There remains only one problem then."
"My King?"
"The fact that I specifically instructed Abbot Olin not to go against Brynn Dharielle," said Aydrian, his voice suddenly turning angry.
"The battle was inadvertent," Master Mackaront backpedaled. "An error in judgment by Yatol De Hamman, whose head was doubtlessly filled with images of greater glory. But now that the fight has begun..."
"Abbot Olin will stop it, and with his sincere apologies," Aydrian told him.
"We can defeat her, my King," Master Mackaront assured.
"Is there something deficient in your hearing, master?" De'Unnero sternly interjected.
Aydrian waved the fiery monk off. "Please speak openly, master," he bade.
Master Mackaront cleared his throat again. "The city nearly fell to De Hamman, and that despite the surprise return of the dragon and a second horde of To-gai-ru warriors," he explained. "They are besieged within the city now, with nowhere to run. Never will we see so great an opportunity as this one at hand. On the open desert or open steppes, the Dragon of To-gai is a far more formidable foe."
"Is this Dragon of To-gai a woman, or is it a beast?" De'Unnero asked.
"It is both," Mackaront explained. "The woman, Brynn Dharielle, is called the Dragon of To-gai because of the great beast she controls."
"A dragon?" Sadye put in. "A real dragon?"
"Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would not disagree with your obvious doubt," Master Mackaront replied. "A real dragon indeed, huge and terrible. But the warriors of Behren have done battle with it for years now, and they know how to beat it. Aided by the magic of the Abellican brothers, they will bring the beast down."
"There remains only one problem then," Aydrian reiterated, his voice thick with sarcasm.
"Yes, my King," the master of St. Bondabruce agreed, and he lowered his eyes.
"Abbot Olin is not to battle Brynn," Aydrian declared. "Not now. Not if all the southland was handed to me in a victory chalice. I do not wish to war with Brynn. I have other plans for her."
That brought curious stares from the others in the room, Aydrian noted, particularly from Sadye, who seemed less than pleased. She was particularly irked by his familiar tone regarding Brynn, he realized, and he had to fight hard to keep his grin hidden.
"Abbot Olin has all the forces that can be spared at this time," Aydrian said flatly to Master Mackaront. "The season grows warmer and our dangerous foe to the north will likely march. And there remains the issue of St.-Mere-Abelle - you and your abbot do remember that place, do you not?" Aydrian looked at De'Unnero as he finished, though, and not at Mackaront, and he was pleased to see the eager glow in the monk's eyes - and in those of Duke Kalas, as well.
"Yes, my King."
"Would you have me lessen my pressure upon the perverted Abellican Order and delay my conquest of the mother abbey so that your abbot can collect miles of windblown sand for my coffers?"
"No, of course not, my King."
"Then go quickly and tell Abbot Olin to surrender his visions of To-gai and use the forces I have given to him to strengthen his hold on Behren.
When I am finished here, I will join him in Jacintha, with all the strength of Honce-the-Bear behind me. Brynn Dharielle will be brought into my fold, one way or another. Now be gone."
"Yes, my King." With that, Mackaront bowed and exited the room, and headed straight out the front door of St. Bondabruce.
"I am surprised that Abbot Olin did not come to meet with you personally," Marcalo De'Unnero observed.
"Nor Duke Bretherford," added Kalas. "Perhaps the abbot's hold on the southland is not as strong as he believes."
"Let us hope that it is," Aydrian replied. "Because he must hold with those forces I have entrusted to him. I'll not turn my eyes from the north now, not with St.-Mere-Abelle unconquered and Prince Midalis not yet discovered. Have we word from Earl DePaunch?"
"None since the runner ship arrived in Palmaris from Pireth Dancard announcing that the fortress had been taken," Duke Kalas admitted.
"The weather has turned fair enough for DePaunch to risk a journey southward by a courier ship, surely," said De'Unnero.
"Perhaps one has landed in Palmaris during our march," the duke replied.
"We cannot know."
De'Unnero started to respond, his voice rising with agitation.
"It is not a matter of concern to us at this time," Aydrian interrupted.
"Set your sights on Pireth Tulme - I wish to have it secured in short order. And set your sights upon St.-Mere-Abelle. If Prince Midalis makes an appearance, we will destroy him. If not, then let us secure the whole of the southland, the mother abbey included. Our position will only be greater in that event should the prince come south."
"And what of the eager DePaunch?" De'Unnero asked, doing nothing at all to hide his continuing contempt for the young upstart.
"I will see to him," said Aydrian. "Along with his victory in the gulf, when Pireth Tulme is ours, St.-Mere-Abelle will be completely isolated.
As will Prince Midalis. Time works against the prince, not for him. Even those peasants who might have supported him have warmed to the thought of King Aydrian, no doubt."
"They are a fickle lot," Duke Kalas agreed with a derisive chortle, a sentiment that was shared by everyone in the room.
The now-formidable armada of Prince Midalis swept out of Vanguard harbor, sails full of wind. Sleek Saudi ]acintha centered the fleet, her prow smoothly cutting the dark waters while the heavier, stolen Honce-the-Bear warships bounced and splashed along beside her.
The spirit of Aydrian, hovering over the gulf waters, wasn't nearly as surprised that the efficient prince had so quickly turned the ships back out as he was to discover the trailing fleet of Alpinadoran longboats.
So, Midalis had made some allies in Vanguard.
Any thoughts that Aydrian had harbored of sending the rest of his fleet out from Palmaris to confront the prince flew away now, in light of the size and strength of this armada. When the young king's spirit had flown past Pireth Dancard, to see the charred skeletons of three warships and the tip of the mast of a fourth one, sunken in the bay, he had easily deduced the source of that disaster. His subsequent scouting of the island, to see that Earl DePaunch and the rest of his soldiers were still ashore, had made it fairly clear to Aydrian that the rest of the missing fleet had likely been stolen.
And here they were, sailing south from Vanguard, stacked with enemies of his crown.
In a way, Aydrian was glad to see the force moving against him - finally he knew the intentions of Prince Midalis. And given the size of the fleet, he knew, too, the general size of Midalis' force. Fifty boats, most of them longboats and only nine heavier warships.
Not more than five thousand warriors.
The young king wished that he could become a more substantial physical force at that moment, a great gale to circle behind the armada and fill their sails even more. Not to sink them, but to urge them on, to push Midalis more swiftly to the coast of southern Honce-the-Bear.
Then it would be over and he would be unopposed.
His pleasant musing was sharply interrupted, though, as a wave of energy overcame him. Suddenly, Aydrian's corporeal form seemed so much farther away, almost unattainably so! Panic welling, the young man soared back to his body in Entel, and rushed into it, coming awake and gasping repeatedly.
Gradually, he calmed and realized what had happened, and he forgave himself his moment of panic and misunderstanding.
He wasn't used to losing.
He recognized that sunstone antimagic had defeated him. Certainly it was easier to put up a sunstone antimagic wave than to utilize the spirit- walking ability of the soul stone. Even a much weaker gemstone-wielder could defeat the latter with the former.
Still, someone had noted his intrusion, it seemed, and he had been nowhere near to the fleet of Prince Midalis. Someone on the decks of one of those ships was apparently quite familiar, and proficient, with gemstone magic.
"Mother?" Aydrian asked slyly into his empty room.
At the front rail on the prow of Saudi Jacintha, Pony looked out at the dark waters and let the salty breeze blow through her hair. She had come up here alone to meditate on all the circumstances surrounding her, to consider the course of Dasslerond more completely, and now the attempts by Juraviel to help her put things aright.
To consider the man standing on the deck behind her, Prince Midalis, and the desperate gamble they were all now taking to try to find some weakness in the growing strength of Aydrian.
To consider Aydrian, her son, so lost and wayward, so wrongly guided.
And to consider Elbryan. Had it been a dream, a delusion wrought by weakness and agony? Had she really descended into the realm of death when she had been shot by that arrow along the waters offshore of Pireth Dancard? By all common sense, she knew it had to be a delusion; but if so how had she maintained enough of a connection to her soul stone to prevent that surely mortal wound from finishing her off? Had it really been the spirit of Elbryan guiding her, holding her hand and holding her heart through the gemstone? Pony didn't know, and that only made the spirit's last words to her even more confusing.
"We make fine progress, but Captain Al'u'met fears that the strong tail wind portends a brewing late-season storm," said Midalis, coming up beside her.
"No storm," Pony assured him, for she had scouted far out to the west the previous night. She knew that they would be well beyond Pireth Dancard, at least, before any storm could catch up to them, and knew, too, that if they got around the northeastern tip of the mainland, beyond Pireth Tulme, then the sailing should be smoother and much safer.
"Captain Al'u'met explained that running the eastern coast in the spring and summer is quite safe," Midalis remarked, echoing her thoughts exactly.
"The farther south we sail, the safer the waters in this season," she replied.
The two stood in silence for some time, then, just looking out at the shining dark waters and the occasional white-tipped breaks. Directly below them, the water splashed and flew as Saudi Jacintha swept on.
"I never would have found the courage for so bold a move without you,"
Prince Midalis said quietly a short time later.
Pony turned and regarded him curiously.
"The strike against Dancard, and now this," Midalis explained. "You have brought more with you than you understand in your journey to join me."
"More a flight from Aydrian than that," Pony admitted.
Prince Midalis offered a smile and a nod. "Do you really believe that Duke Bretherford will be swayed?"
"The Duke Bretherford that I knew was loyal to your brother."
"As was Duke Kalas," Midalis reminded.
"But unlike Kalas, Bretherford was never blinded by ambition," Pony explained. "It is surprising that Duke Kalas threw in so readily with Aydrian - unless you consider how profoundly the man despises me."
"Then he is a fool," Midalis said to her, and he reached over and dared to stroke her blond hair.
Pony just kept looking back out at the water, accepting the comforting pat.
"Then Duke Bretherford never despised Queen Jilseponie," Midalis reasoned.
"I would not have called us friends, but neither were we enemies. I have always been fond of Duke Bretherford, and he was quite blunt and honest with me - perhaps the only one in your brother's court to act so."
Midalis came to the rail beside her and leaned out on crossed arms. "It is such a desperate plan, isn't it?"
"Less so than our strike at Pireth Dancard a few weeks ago when the seas were far more dangerous, I would guess," Pony replied. "Duke Bretherford's fleet outside of Jacintha is not so formidable, from what I have gathered from Belli'mar Juraviel. If the duke turns on us, we should defeat him."
"I mean all of it," Prince Midalis clarified. "This whole attempt to unseat your son, whose army, by all accounts, is..." He stopped and looked hard at Pony, who had suddenly turned away, glancing all about and wearing an expression of suspicion.
"What is it?"
Pony held up her hand to cut short the inquisition and just went on glancing about. "How could I have been so foolish?" she asked, and her hand went to the pouch on her hip.
"What is it?" Midalis demanded.
"It is Aydrian, I believe," the woman answered, and she drew forth her hand and sorted through the stones until she held a sunstone alone. Pony fell into that stone and called forth its antimagic energies, then threw them out wide to the waves. Sometime later, the woman gave a sigh and considered her friend.
"Aydrian sought us out spiritually," she explained. "I think it was he, or one of his lackeys."
"Perhaps it was one of the brothers within St.-Mere-Abelle."
"Let us hope," said Pony.
"You dismissed the magic with the sunstone?"
"It is not so difficult a feat," she explained. "The sunstone is an easy defense against such intrusions, for the first hint of its power forces a spirit to flee back to its dispossessed body."
"Could you not have gone out with the soul stone instead?" the prince asked. "To determine the source of that... feeling?"
Pony thought on it, then just shook her head. The prince had a point, she knew, but she knew, too, without a doubt, that she simply did not wish to meet Aydrian in any form at that time.
"I will be more vigilant," she promised.
"If he knows..."
"Then he knows only that we have sailed out of Vanguard, nothing more.
Our destination could be Palmaris. Or St.-Mere-Abelle. Or Pireth Tulme.
He cannot know. And we have a significant part of his fleet, even should he guess our course. What might he throw against us that we cannot defeat out here on the seas?"
It was true enough, she knew, and she joined Prince Midalis in looking around at that time, at the great warships sailing off to either side of Saudi Jacinthds wake and the multitude of Alpinadoran vessels keeping pace all about them. It was a comforting sight indeed, for there was truth in Pony's statement, and it seemed possible at that time that Prince Midalis might seize complete control of the seas in short order.
Taking the land might not prove 50 easy.
Playing on that thought, Pony turned to the man. "Pireth Dancard," she said.
Midalis looked at her curiously.
"Perhaps we should visit the island fortress once more, on our way through the gulf," Pony explained. "They, resident and invader alike, have been trapped there for weeks now. Perhaps the sight of Prince Midalis will offer hope to your loyalists and make Aydrian's supporters reconsider their course."
"You would have us slow our run to the south?"
"Nay," the woman answered, a grin growing on her face. "Let the fleet sail on, with only Saudi Jacintha lagging behind. Or better still, let us bid Captain Al'u'met to open wide his sails and outdistance the fleet to Dancard, where we can wait. You and I can go out from her - I will get you to Dancard with the gemstones."
"And then what?" the prince asked incredulously. "We, two, do battle with an Ursal legion?"
"We two learn what we might learn, and strike wherever we might," Pony said, and now her grin spread wide across her face.
Prince Midalis looked at her for a long while before a similar grin began to widen on his handsome face. "You are a gambler, aren't you?"
"Not when I see a more reasonable course," Pony admitted. "You know of one?"
The prince only laughed.
They came ashore in the dark of night, stepping from the lapping waves onto the surf-rounded rocks not far from the spot where Pony once lay wounded. Behind them, a mile out to sea, Saudi ]acintha sat at anchor, while the rest of the fleet sailed on from the north, trying to catch up to the swift ship.
As they moved up the beach to higher ground, they saw the lights of the tower fortress off to the left and the darkened shapes of the buildings of Dancard town along the rocky slopes to the right. One place within that quiet community seemed to be bustling, though, and the pair let it be their beacon as they made their way.
"A common room," Pony observed quietly from the shadows beyond the windows.
"Filled mostly with townsfolk, it seems," said Midalis, bending a bit for a better angle as he peered into the glow. "But soldiers, too, no doubt."
"I want to run in there and proclaim your presence," Pony admitted. "I want to lead you to the tower and take it back for the rightful crown, here and now."
"You promised Bradwarden and Andacanavar that this was merely an exploratory journey," the prince reminded her.
It was true enough, Pony had to admit. When she and Midalis had announced their plans for this diversion to Pireth Dancard, the centaur, in particular, had howled in outrage, and had kept on howling until he got concessions from the pair that they would use all precautions here.
The sound of talking from farther down the road behind the pair had them ducking deeper into the shadows, and they watched as a group of five men - fishermen of Dancard, obviously, and not professional soldiers - ambled into sight.
Pony and Midalis exchanged a glance, and then the woman stepped out to block the road before the group, while the prince sank deeper into the shadows.
"Greetings," she said.
The men stopped, nearly falling all over each other. "Eh, Connie girl, is that you?" one asked.
"Nah, that's not Connie," another was quick to add. "Who are ye, girl?"
"Hardly a girl anymore," Pony said and she moved a bit more into the light and pulled back the hood of her cloak, shaking her blond hair free.
"Who are ye then?" the second man asked. "Ye're not one from Dancard that I'm knowin', and I'm knowin' all from Dancard town. Did ye come in with them soldiers, then? A trollop for the morale o' the men?"
That brought a few hopeful smiles from the others, and Pony merely laughed. "Hardly," she replied. "I am a herald, come to Dancard isle this night."
"This night?" one man balked, and he and the others glanced down toward the dark ocean as if expecting an invasion fleet to even then be gliding in. "I heard o' no ships putting in to Dancard this night!"
"Because I was on no ship," Pony replied calmly. "And I am no trollop. I am a herald, as I said, bearing news of Prince Midalis of Vanguard, the rightful king of Honce-the-Bear."
The men all stammered, but really said nothing intelligible for a long while.
"Are ye now?" one of them finally managed to ask.
"The same Prince Midalis who led the attack against the fleet of Ursal that came to Pireth Dancard," Pony went on. "The same Prince Midalis who stranded the soldiers here by sailing off with their ships."
"Bah, she's one of Earl DePaunch's spies!" another man cried. "He's testing our wits here, wanting to see if we're thinkin' in favor o' Midalis. Scoot her on her way and let us get to the bottles!"
"Aye, she's no herald," another agreed.
"Then why did she bring me along with her?" asked Midalis, stepping from the shadows to stand openly before them, his hands on his hips, holding wide his cloak to reveal the crest of the bear rampant, the crest of his family, emblazoned upon the one piece of armor he wore this night, a half breastplate that covered the left side of his chest.
Indeed, the men did recognize Midalis, for he had been through Dancard on several occasions, including his return trip from the marriage of Pony and his brother only a couple of years before.
The men gave a communal gasp.
"Are ye to kill DePaunch then and get his bullies off our island?" one dared to ask a moment later.
"Aye, the dog that he is," another said, and he spat upon the ground.
"He put Warder Presso to the noose, he did," said another.
"Warder Presso?" Pony asked suddenly, the name sparking recognition.
"Aye, our leader here before DePaunch," the man answered. "A good man.
Coastpoint Guard for years and years."
"You knew him?" Prince Midalis asked Pony.
"I knew a man by that name in Pireth Tulme, many years ago," the woman answered, and her tone turned very cold as she asked the townsman, "Where is this Earl DePaunch?"
As one, the group turned up toward the tower.
"What are you thinking, Jilseponie? " Prince Midalis quietly asked.
She didn't answer. She didn't have to answer to convey her intentions.
"Stand strong in your faith in the line of Ursal," she said to the townsfolk, and she turned and started off into the darkness, heading for the distant tower.
"My prince?" one man asked, obviously not knowing what he should do and obviously expecting some trouble! "Go to your revelry," Prince Midalis explained. "You are not forgotten here, though it may be some time before I can return to you. But I will return to you, on my word, should I reclaim the crown of Honce-the-Bear."
And then, knowing well that Pony wasn't waiting for him, the man sprinted off into the night.
He caught up to her along the road out of Dancard town, moving determinedly toward the tower. "Jilseponie," he warned, grabbing her by the arm. "We promised Andacanavar and Bradwarden that we would avoid trouble."
"No trouble," the woman returned. "But I've a few words for this Earl DePaunch." She looked Midalis in the eye, and even in the dark of night, he could see the intense sparkle in her blue eyes. "For the man who murdered Warder Constantine Presso."
The woman stormed on, sweeping Midalis along in her wake. As they approached the tower of Pireth Dancard, they saw a pair of guards standing before the closed doors, long spears held ready beside them.
"Stand and be counted!" came the demand.
"Open the door!" Pony shouted back.
"What is the meaning of this?" one of the guards roared at her. "Back to your homes, peasants!"
"Is that how you name your former queen, and the prince of Honce-the- Bear?" Pony yelled right back at him, pulling back the hood of her cloak.
"Stand aside for Prince Midalis, or risk being hanged as a traitor to the crown How wide those two sets of eyes looked, reflected in the torchlight! The men gawked for a moment, then looked to each other, then back at the surprising pair. One stammered, "What? What?" over and over again, while the other slunk back and seemed on the verge of a fast retreat.
"Open the door!" Pony demanded.
"I cannot, milady," the flustered soldier cried, and he halfheartedly lifted his spear before him, while his partner moved more forcibly to intercept the still-approaching pair.
Or at least, the man tried to intercept, for in the flash of a sizzling, bluish silver bolt, he was flying away, to crash against the tower side and crumple to the hard ground.
The other man fell back, and then screamed out as another bolt blasted forth from Pony's hand, aimed not at him, but at the door he partially blocked.
The door fell in, the guard stumbling down atop it, and Pony and Midalis simply walked right by.
"Where is Earl DePaunch?" Pony asked the shaking and prone guard.
The man pointed to the stairway set in the back of the circular tower's base.
Up went Pony, with Midalis following close behind. They moved quickly right through the second floor, the barracks, taking little heed of the men, some sleeping, some groggily asking what the commotion was all about.
By the time they got to the third-floor door, some of those soldiers were crying out for them to stop, but they merely pushed on, then closed and barred the door behind them.
A hallway loomed before them, a door on either side and one at its end.
"Which one, I wonder?" Pony asked, and Midalis just shrugged.
"If this is another squabble over some peasant's livestock, I will..." came a complaint for the end of the hall, as the door opened and a man stepped to its threshold. He wore a nightshirt, but it was of fine silk, obviously imported from Behren, and he had a distinct look of nobility about him, with his perfectly groomed hair and beard.
"Earl DePaunch, I presume," Pony said to him.
The man looked at her curiously for just a moment, and then his eyes widened so much that it seemed as if the balls would just fall from their sockets and roll about on the floor! "Queen... queen," he stammered.
"And prince prince, too," Pony dryly replied.
The man disappeared, slamming the door and giving a shriek, and Pony methodically moved to it, and through it, just in time to see the tower top's trapdoor slam shut above her.
"Block it! Block it!" she heard the muffled cry of the earl. "Put your bodies atop it, you fools!"
Pony looked to Midalis and smiled wryly. "See? No trouble." She lifted her hand and found her way into the graphite.
The trapdoor blasted apart, launching the two unfortunate soldiers lying atop it into the air.
One was still down, barely conscious, the other up on one knee, shaking his head so forcefully that his lips made a flapping sound, when Pony climbed through onto the rooftop.
A sword met her ascent, coming in hard from the left, but the woman had anticipated the attack, of course, and so she had her own sword in hand, meeting the attack with a deft parry, a subtle turn, and a sudden sweep that sent the other blade flying away into the night.
The Kingsman started to come at her again, but she eyed him dangerously.
"Be reasonable, friend," she said. "Do not make me kill you."
The man, as if only then realizing that he had no weapon in hand, backed away and held his hands up before him.
"To arms!" the terrified DePaunch cried, leaning over the tower's edge across the way from Pony. "To arms! Giulio Jannet, where are you?"
"Nowhere that will do you any good, traitor," Pony said, and Earl DePaunch gave a little shriek and rushed to the side as Pony steadily approached.
"Tell me of Warder Presso's hanging," Pony bade him. "Tell me in detail how you murdered my old friend."
"I represent King Aydrian," the stammering earl replied. "I am a soldier in the army of Honce-the-Bear."
"You are an Allheart Knight, sworn to protect the line of Ursal!" Pony corrected. "The line that names this man as king!" She swept her hand out toward the somewhat amused, somewhat nervous, Prince Midalis.
He stood by the shattered trapdoor looking down, and remarked, "I do believe that we will soon be joined by interested others."
That seemed to give Earl DePaunch some backbone - he stood straighter, at least, and motioned for his soldiers to act.
One started to, but Pony was quicker. She rushed the nobleman and put her sword tip to his throat, her other hand reaching into her gemstone pouch.
"Do tell your soldiers to leave."
"Help me!" the man cried. "Help me! Kill them!"
Pony snapped her hand up to the earl's chest and engaged her new gemstone, forcing its powers to encompass the man instead of herself. His body weight stolen by the malachite's levitational magic, the man went up on his toes, then right off the ground, lifted by Pony. With a shrug, she sent him flying out over the tower's edge.
"Yes, do kill me," she said, turning to face the others.
The three Kingsmen, and a fourth coming up through the trapdoor, hesitated.
"Leave her!" Earl DePaunch screamed frantically, flailing his arms and legs. "Do not harm her! Do not break her concentration!"
With that settled, Pony motioned for the men to throw aside their weapons and move back over to the trapdoor.
"I demand the surrender of Pireth Dancard to the rightful king of Honce- the-Bear, Prince Midalis Dan Ursal!" she called to DePaunch.
DePaunch stammered and stuttered, but was too afraid to argue with her.
"If you so believe in your young King Aydrian, then you should deny my claim here and now," Pony chided. "Tell your men to slay me, Earl DePaunch. Tell them to attack with all their hearts, in faith that you served your king well as you fell to your death."
The sound that came from Earl DePaunch's lips sounded distinctly like a whine.
"I deny your claim!" came a cry from below, and Pony and Midalis looked over the tower's lip to see an Abellican monk standing before the tower, soldiers all about him. "The kingdom is Aydrian's, and the church is claimed for Father Abbot Marcalo De'Unnero." The monk looked about, ordering the soldiers into the tower, and he seemed to have many allies down there with him, all willing to sacrifice DePaunch, if it had to be.
"If I angle it correctly, I might be able to drop DePaunch atop the fool," Pony remarked to Midalis.
But Prince Midalis cupped her hand with his own. "Remember who we are,"
he said. "Set the man down."
Pony stared at him incredulously, but Midalis jumped aside and gathered up a rope that was lying beside the ballista. He tossed one end out to the earl, and when the man caught it, he gave a sudden tug that brought the weightless DePaunch flying back over the tower top, where Pony released him from the magic. He fell hard, skidding down, but scrambled right back to his feet.
"A wise choice, Prince Midalis," DePaunch said, trying to regain some of his lost dignity. "Perhaps I might speak on your behalf to King Aydrian."
He didn't quite get Aydrian's name out before Midalis' left hook smashed him in the face, dropping him like a stone.
"Think well on your position here, Earl DePaunch," the prince warned.
"You are isolated; the seas are mine, as the kingdom soon will be. I'll not forget your treason, sir, nor your murder of Warder Presso."
"Who was my friend," Pony added, moving by and glaring at the squirming man. "We will speak again."
They had to leave then, for the tower below was filling with soldiers, and even the three guards on the top with them seemed to be gaining some confidence.
"You should all consider your positions well," Pony said to them, and she sheathed her sword and took out a second gemstone - which made the soldiers shrink back even more! "King Danube is dead, but his line lives on.
Aydrian is not of that line, and is not the rightful king of Honce-the- Bear."
She took Midalis' hand then, and engaged her malachite gemstone, running to the tower's lip and leaping away. As soon as they were airborne, Pony reached into the second stone, a lodestone, and used its energies to find a metallic source across the way in Dancard town. She strengthened the lodestone's focus on that metal, using the magnetic energies to propel her and Midalis along through the dark Dancard night.
She brought them down easily, releasing the malachite. On they ran down to the surf, the sound of a dozen horns blowing furiously behind them.
Now with amber in hand, the clever woman and the prince sprinted out across the dark waters toward the waiting Saudi Jacintha."! should have dropped him to his death," Pony lamented, when they were safely away.
"His terror weakened him in the eyes of his juniors," Midalis remarked.
"Your action, had you killed him, might have brought an attempted revolt, but that would have done little but get the townsfolk slaughtered. We cannot support them now, because we've not the time nor the resources to do battle with Pireth Dancard at present. Our business is in the south, remember?"
Pony had to agree. "You have support in Dancard - Earl DePaunch's stay there will not be without incident."
"And there he will remain, until we decide otherwise. You shamed him to his soldiers and now they know the truth of my intent. We have won a significant victory here."
Pony wasn't quite so convinced, but she understood that it had to be good enough. Still, within Pony there loomed a desire to slip ashore and cripple the batteries, and to finish with DePaunch and all the other leaders. Then let Midalis' warships sail in, and see how much resistance the island offered! But Midalis was right, she knew. What would they do with the crown's soldiers even if they came over to the prince's cause? They had no more room on their ships.
Her friend was right, she knew. Let Aydrian's men sit there on that rocky island and fester.
And let DePaunch suffer with his fears.
For now.