The Battle of Westmore Aftermath.
The next to the last time Alexis cried on her mother's shoulder she was eight years old. Oh, sure, there had been tears since then, cried in the middle of the night over the callousness of friends and enemies, the difficulty of being thought a child in an adult world; or the time she cracked a rib falling off of a horse, she had cried at that.
But that time was different. It was her eldest sister's marriage, there in the great grey stone church of Westmoor. Alexis had been to weddings before; she was in the choir, after all, singing next to Stinky Reynauld. Reynauld Tanner; his father was a well-to-do merchant who donated to the church, but he always smelled faintly of tanning hides. She thought weddings were wonderful things, with the colors and the bright fresh clothes and the bride in white. But when she went down to the floor after singing, after the ceremony, her mother and all her sisters were crying. She wasn't sure why they were crying, but she joined in; her mother picked her up and held her against her shoulder. From this vantage, nestled comfortably against her mother, she could see a grey hair twisted in with her mother's black.
When she was eleven she left the choir. Stinky, who was a year and a half older, had quit about the same time, suddenly one day when his voice cracked in practice. It was spring, and her father had just been appointed Master of the Trade Fair by the Duke. Westmore had grown enough, the Duke decided, to have its own trade fair. Her father had been chosen to organize it. He would be spending this year traveling to the other cities of the Kingdom to spread the word, look at how fairs in other places were organized, and somehow turn their little farmer's market into a fair.
Only Alexis and her brother, younger by a year, went along with their father. "The rest are all too busy chasing boys, but you still have a little time for your old man," he smiled at her, picking her up in his big strong hands and putting her on the wagon with the trade goods they were taking for show. Even from the wagon's vantage, she still had to look up at him on his horse, a great black stallion, armor shining. With a dozen of the Duke's best horsemen, all under her father's command, they set out.
It was an exhilarating year. Even when she got seasick on the boat out of Nice Place, headed toward the near islands, it was exciting. The islands in summer were magnificent, cool breezes off the water across the golden brown hillsides dotted with the dark green olive trees. She saw her first easterners there, exotic dark skinned people in equally exotic costumes. The cities of the plains of Tara, Nice Place, Marcy, and especially Pelier were stupendous.
They wintered in Pelier, the capital of the kingdom. Her father had seen the map Alexis had been making during their travels, and took her to the library there. It was a cold and rainy day, she remembered, and they stepped out of the wind into the mountain and its hall after hall of books, stone walls impervious to weather, day, and night. She saw maps, real maps, of Tara, both the plains and the river valley to the north where they had not gone, and the Isles and the lands to the east. She spent as much time in the library as she could possibly manage.
The next three years she did not get much chance to travel. She spent most of her time with her mother and the stewards, learning to manage a noble household. Though, as fifth daughter, it was not clear how much of a household she would ever have to manage. La Ponte was, at best, a fortified manor on the river, and would likely go to her younger brother. A rocky protrusion caused the river to slow and bend, and a bridge had been built there, with the manor guarding the bridge on the north shore. Westmore proper was just a bit more to the north; houses had filled in the distance from the manor to the gate in the town wall. Another sister got married.
Fourteen years old. Somehow, nothing she did pleased her mother, and they fought at least once a day. Dad arranged to send her to Pelier to stay with some friends he had made, a herald there. She jumped at the chance.
She spent two years with the D'Arsonvals, and learned to be a herald. Somehow, she fought a lot less with Lady D'Arsonval than she had with her mother, although the rules were equally strict. Very strict, indeed, when she suddenly discovered boys. There was about a six-month period when she went rather boy crazy; but it burned itself out without embarrassing anyone too much.
And there was always the library. As herald, she had to learn a lot about the families of the lands and commit as much as she could of the living to memory. The books were full, though, of the history of the families before now. The senior librarian one day took her to see the oldest books.
"But these don't look any different," she said, puzzled, as she turned a seemingly new volume over in her hands.
He chuckled. "Look inside the cover. See, there," he said, pointing at the cover page. "This is the fifth time this book has been copied. This book was written by Father Cuvier, just after King Bran's forces landed here and conquered these lands."
"What's this?" she asked, pointing to a jagged signature.
He smiled again. "Young Prince William used to come down here when he could get away from his tutors. He liked the old stories, and when I copied this one, I asked him to autograph it. He, he," he laughed, "I think he's now back in your home town."
She could see how the book would entrance a young boy. Father Cuvier had a fast paced way of writing, and the book was filled with battles, clever ploys, victory snatched from defeat. Father Cuvier, though, was also a keen observer. Something had been lost in the people they conquered, he thought; they were once a great people. He even remarked on the fact that they had churches dedicated to the same god as the islands; different from what he had seen in the east. And the women fought alongside their men, with equal skill and ferocity.
Sixteen. Both of her unmarried sisters were getting married at once. She was called back to Westmore for the weddings; even though they would be leaving Westmore for Fort Carcassonne and Marcy, the weddings would be at the brides' home. It was frantic preparing for the double ceremony, and as soon as she got back home she was thrown into the fray. She didn't fight with her mother at all, although she thought she would scream if she heard one more time how much she had grown up. Her father looked a little rueful over all the preparations. "You wouldn't mind waiting a few years to get married, would you, Lex? Not much of a dowry left at this point, I'm afraid."
The church looked smaller than she remembered it, although the choir of young boys and girls sounded much the same. Her mother cried again, but this time Alexis smiled and just hugged her sisters. The reception took place on the grassy area next to the river, just upstream of the De La Ponte manor. Her father had pulled out all the stops; great tents shaded the field, and musicians performed continuously. She moved slowly in her dress, which fortunately only pinched in a couple of places, to the edge of the river for a break. She was watching the swirls and eddies when a rather handsome young man, a cavalryman by insignia approached. "Pardon me, my Lady, I was wondering if you would care to..." His voice trailed off as he looked at her with a more puzzled expression. "Lizard?" he asked.
She hadn't been called Lizard since she was a young girl, since... "Stinky?" she replied. Smiling, she put on her best look of mock indignation, fists on hips and arms akimbo. "And, I'll have you know, that's Lady Alexis now."
He smiled, an utterly engaging smile, and bowed sweepingly to her. "A thousand pardons, Mistress De La Ponte, it's just that you look... wow!"
Well, she thought, at least he didn't say how much she'd grown up. After a little more talking, they did dance. And talked some more. He'd made it into the Duke's cavalry, and had hopes of earning a knighthood, "so," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "I can attract the eye of certain noble ladies."
Sixteen and a half. She was accepted into the Duke's household as a junior herald, and the stipend the Duke gave her father for his services was increased accordingly. She still lived in the De La Ponte manor, but would ride into the Duke's keep most days. She found herself also helping with the Duke's small library and his collection of maps.
One day, not long after she had started working in the household, her mother and a sister showed up with the chief herald and Lady duGryphon. Lady duGryphon looked her over sharply and nodded once. "Can she be excused from her duties?" she asked the chief herald, who simply nodded. "Mistress De La Ponte," she said, eyes sharp as steel looking into hers, "Lord Gryphon and I would be delighted to have your company at dinner tonight."
Alexis looked at the chief herald, behind the formidable Lady, who nodded rapidly at her. Remembering to curtsy slightly, she pasted a smile on her face. "I would love to," she said. The Lady nodded in acknowledgment, and she and the herald quickly left.
"We don't have much time," her sister said, as they hurried her off and explained. The Gryphons were close friends of the Duke, and conducted a training course for the young nobles. Their course was intensive, and nobles from across the land vied to send their sons and daughters there. This particular class had both the Duke's heir, Evan Westmore, and Prince William, third in line to the throne of the kingdom, in the class. Several of the girls had gotten sick, and Lady duGryphon was rounding up suitable well-bred ladies from the keep to take their place. "I did it twice, back before I got married" her sister said. "It was nerve wracking, but a lot of fun. I can't imagine how they do it each night." Alexis blinked. A formal dinner and dance every night? God, that would kill her. Her sister hurriedly went over the rules of the night; never turn down a dance, never dance with the same man twice in a row, and more rules. Several times she glanced at their mother, started to say something, then stopped.
Her sister and mother dressed her in a hand me down from another sister, and saw to her hair and make up, getting her delivered to the proper door at the right time. It was a side hall off of the main one in the keep, and as she entered the room one of the other heralds announced her. In the part of her mind that was staying professional, she was classifying the others present, trying to identify who was who. She quickly recognized the locals, and the Prince, but couldn't place some of the others. She was escorted to dinner by someone who's name she heard and immediately forgot, utterly unlike her. The rest of the evening passed in a haze; though she recalled later that she had danced with both Lord Evan and Prince William, and probably stepped on both of their feet. At least twice.
"So, would you do it again?" Reynauld looked over at her from his horse. There were plenty of guards on duty at night available to escort Alexis back to the De La Ponte manor, but he had insisted on waiting for her.
There was no way she could ride in this ball gown, and she had no wish to damage it, so the Gryphon's had seen to loaning her a small carriage to get home in. She was sitting on one side of the carriage, looking up and out the window to the young man. "I suppose so," she said thoughtfully, then she smiled. "But next time I won't be caught so much by surprise."
"Good opportunity for you," he said, and there was an oddly stiff tone to his voice. "Might be able to catch yourself a prince."
They stopped in front of the manor, and he dismounted smoothly to beat the carriage driver to the door. She was still thinking over his words as she held his hand to step down from the carriage, without letting the gown catch on any of the bits of wood and nails. When she finally spoke, her voice was low. "I don't think that's what I want. I want to travel, to see the world." Unnoticed by both of them, her face was flushing red. "And I'll need a guard when I do." She kissed him quickly, and ran into the manor, not looking back.
[Side note: When Reynauld gets knighted for valor on the field -- about the only way he can -- then a marriage to him would be a marriage of equals. The marriage of a commoner to a noble lady is a cause for some scandal that lasts a lifetime, and usually results in the pair going elsewhere. A noble man can marry a common woman and raise her up; there is a little scandal, but it is permitted.]
Nineteen. The years had been busy. Reynauld had done well for himself in the Duke's cavalry. "Officer material" was the phrase she heard most often, which meant he might indeed be ennobled. And then he would ask her to marry, she was pretty sure of that. They spent a lot of time together, as much as they could manage without making the scandal a major one. As her mother only occasionally reminded her, she was getting old, and there weren't any other suitors; Alexis had been dissuading any who might come calling.
She sighed, trying to figure out what to do, and staring at the books on the shelf, trying to decide which one needed recopying next. There was a sound of running feet outside, one of the kids running messages about. The door slammed open, and the kid, eyes wide, stuck his head in the library. "The Duke is dead!" he shouted and ran on to the next doorway.
It took some time, milling about with all the others in the Great Hall, to get the story straight. The Duke had been off boar hunting, there had been an accident, and he was killed. The next month passed strangely; it was like the heart had gone out of the keep. During the mourning, little got done, and routine seemed like anything but. The duchess seemed to waste away, aging a year in just a month.
Two weeks after the Duke's death, Alexis was standing around the keep, trying to decide what to do, when she noticed Lord and Lady Gryphon, unusually not with their class. She followed them, discreetly, as they went to the Westmore family rooms. She could hear talking through the wall, but voices weren't raised, so she couldn't tell what was said. They left after an hour, and a few minutes after that young Evan came out. He looked around, took a deep breath, and moved over to two of the maids. He spoke with them quietly a few moments, gave them a few orders, and moved on.
He worked through the room, finally stopping before Alexis. "Lady De La Ponte. My father spoke of you as having great promise."
She curtsied. "Thank you, Your Grace. My...my condolences on your loss."
He nodded, almost a bow to her. "Thank you, Lady. Father Tully will, I think, need some help with my Father's record of accomplishments. Would you please see to helping him?"
Strangely relieved, she curtsied again. "Of course, Your Grace."
He started to turn and stopped. "Oh, Lady De La Ponte, one more thing. At the end of the month I shall have to go to Pelier, to see if the King will accept my succession. I seem to recall that you spent some time studying there?" She nodded. "Then I would like very much for you to be my herald when we go there. I realize that it is a bit unusual," he smiled wanly, "but I can never remember all the cousins' names. Let's hope that this is the most unusual thing that happens during my reign."
Pelier. There was a lot of the time that she had off, while the Duke-to-be was closeted with the Royal family. She could tell that William and Evan had been good friends, and they spent a lot of time away from the rest. Alexis used the time to show Reynauld, who was one of the troop accompanying the Duke on his journey, her favorite parts of the city. In the city, where they were relatively unknown, they could walk arm in arm without comment. So long as she kept her hair covered. Might not be a bad future, she thought.
She was having a dream. She rose from her bed, moving the sheets away, the soft spring night cool against her. Her bed was her bed, but it was in a room larger than hers, and all in white. She moved to the window of the room, and looked through it, out over a huge city of buildings, to where a white tower rose impossibly tall in the brilliant starlight. A star detached itself from the sky fluttering down to her open window. She caught it, a card about the size of a playing card, but brilliantly colored with crossed swords. She held it up in both hands to get a better view of it, and she flowed into a dream-within-a-dream. Of standing there with a sword, of all things, dodging and weaving and swinging with it. Time and time again, drilled until it became one with her arm.
She blinked. There was a young woman standing in her room, nodding to her. "Yes," she said, "you might be able to. But there will be payment, if not in advance, then later." She turned and left the room. A moment later, there was a baby's cry; her sister had come home to have her child. But that was true in the real world, not just in her dream. She blinked again. The baby was still crying; her sister had her child...and the room was still too large and white. She ran from the room.
The next few weeks were a flurry of action. She slept maybe four hours a night. The new city of Westmore covered all of the farms that had been near the old city, so her father was dispatched with much of the ready gold to buy as much food as possible, before the news spread and the price went out of sight. He rode quickly, taking only fast riding horses, and planning to buy wagons as well as food in the capital. She joined up with the surveyors, trying to make some sense of the new city. It was huge, with an outer wall about three miles on a side. It was arranged around big plazas, clear circular areas with fountains and trees, and broad avenues leading from one plaza to another.
Those houses that people woke up in had their owners contents; the new, vacant ones had heavy furniture, some pots, pans, and a little food. But nothing of a personal nature. No books, no signs, nothing written was found in the city. Judging from the hastily made maps, the massive tower was in the position of the old keep, and the other towns were now inside the outer city wall, in a relative position to where they had been. Whatever happened had drawn all the people and animals within twenty miles into the city.
Each district, practically each neighborhood, had its own church. Alexis wasn't with the group that found the Big Church, but after hearing about it, made time to see it on one of her surveying trips. If a building could be said to soar, this one did. Arches reached from out of the ground to the side walls, which had lesser arches up to the roof, to a high white spire. Inside, there was a vast open area, six or seven floors high, that caught the sound of voices and reflected them with a resonance that turned even a whisper into a song. It was a busy place, with the priests scuttling about to set it up.
The church had its own plaza, and three paved roads leading to it. A few small streets and buildings wound around the back of the church, rooms and houses for the priests and their people. It was in the middle of the Serpentine; well, that was the provisional name for the unpaved, unbuilt area that passed through the city. It was a path about a hundred yards wide, that came from the east wall, passed north past the palace, and then turned south, ending at the south wall. Paved roads crossed it in several places. A low stone wall, only about three feet high, marked the boundary between the paved and unpaved surfaces.
It took some time before she could say it with a straight face, but the general consensus was that there was magic worked. The fountains seemed to be supplied with fresh water from some place very deep. There were sewers under the city that carried the wastes away, and they were clearly carried away by the small river that had always served the town of Westmore. There were a frantic couple of days while the sewers near the palace were investigated; the Duke wanted to know, NOW, whether any of them gave entrance to the palace. She even tried, once, the spot on the fifth floor of the palace that transported her to the top of the tower. From there, the view was beautiful but frustrating. It was almost like looking at the maps of the city, but she was not able to peer closer where she wanted to.
The Duke himself looked resplendent in his armor. She had heard gossip of the tests that were done; the armor itself was incredibly tough, and gave the Duke the strength of a hundred men. He didn't need to eat or drink while wearing it; in fact, he couldn't. He also couldn't get out of it, which put him in a foul mood. It was this, strangely enough, that most impressed her. He kept himself from taking out his frustrations on those around them; just a frequent oath, always followed by an apology, railing against the circumstance. He remained focused on the problems of getting the city running again, and trying to understand what had happened.
There was a side effect, though, of the existence of magic. She found out, one day while they were mapping the tiny side streets in one section on the south side. A crowd of peasants grew, mothers hiding children, youngsters with sticks and rocks. Fortunately, there was a troop of soldiers nearby, and they retreated to their protection in time. 'They called me witch,' Alexis thought, and looked at her white hair.
A week or so after the change, the word reached her that the Duke was looking for anyone who had seen any cards with symbols on them, no matter what the circumstance. With some trepidation, she spoke to the seneschal, and quickly found herself telling the Duke about the dream that wasn't a dream. As best she could, she drew out the card as she recalled it. They asked her about two other symbols, one a crossed sword and scales, the other a crossed bow and sword, and seemed to want to confirm that it was a young woman and not old. "No," she said, "I didn't see either of these. Why, my lord?"
The Duke shrugged in his armor. "I'm not sure why, but I think these are important. There are two rooms here in the palace with these symbols. The people who had the clearest story about what happened had two people with these symbols." There was a sound of trumpets from the gate. "Mistress De La Ponte. I understand your father has made it back with the first shipment of foodstuff. Would you like to wait here to see him? I understand Prince William has come along too. Hopefully, he will know how to get me out of this God-damned," and he turned to the nearby priest, "sorry Padre, armor." He didn't even seem to hear the priest's soft "that's all right, son." The Duke grinned. "Still, I think the armor will impress him." The door to the room opened, and the senior herald announced the arrival of the Prince and the Baron Ruby, slowly working his way through the short list of titles. Alexis noticed the Duke, startled, looking at the two. On their chests glittered gold badges of the two symbols he had just shown her.
The explanations took hours, into the next day, interrupted by the frequent need to make some other decision about the city. Alexis hung around listening as she heard about how the Prince and the Baron came by their badges, and the Duke described the advent of the city. "All I know, so far," the young prince said shaking his head, "is that these are royal orders. And they are important, somehow."
The Duke frowned. "Are you sure you want to make them royal orders, William? The two peasants who have the silver badges I told you about, well, they are out looking for books now. One of them - yours, Silverlocke -- looks like he was dropped on his head at birth. Big birthmark, and he's rather slow. And yours, William, is a girl."
The prince shook his head. "All I know is that something is happening. I can feel that if we don't learn to use all these things we've been given, we'll lose. If we don't understand what is happening..." and he let his voice trail off.
In the silence the seneschal approached. "Excuse me, lords. The villagers from Jouet are here, and they say they have books for you." Alexis watched from the crowd, as they told the story of the Magician and the orcs and the books. Watched as the Duke rewarded them with card and privileges. Watched as the prince spoke to them, directing the girl, Paris, to return for training the next day. Watched as Silverlocke greeted the big kid with the birthmark, Miller she overheard, and took him away to go with him to scout out the damaged lands.
When they had all left, the Duke looked thoughtful for a moment and called over one of his guardsmen. They spoke, and he gestured to Alexis. "I want you to go with Sergeant Mandelson," he said gesturing to the guardsman. "He is the swordmaster for my footmen. I've asked him to test you to see what you learned from the card."
"I did fine on the pell," Alexis recounted to Reynauld, late that night. "He seemed to be impressed by the way I handled the sword. Of course, I had to use the broadsword, not that mucking big thing you carry," she said smiling at him, "but I could move it pretty fast. Did all the patterns he wanted me to, and it was like I'd been doing them for years. Then he had me climb into a bunch of practice armor, pretty much hid who I was, and brought in two other guardsmen for live practice with wooden swords." She looked off, out into the darkness. "I couldn't do it. I'd move to attack and hesitate, and lost every time."
She could feel him nod, arm around her shoulder. "It's hard to learn. It's not natural to do. I started when I was twelve, and didn't even start to get over it until I was sixteen or so. And it is different again with live steel and a real opponent. I was scared, I've got to admit." He was quiet for a moment. "Alexis? Is it really so bad? When the peasant women pick up weapons, it means all they have is lost. If the noble women take up swords... are we really so badly off?"
"I don't know," she replied, and watched a tiny falling star.
The next night, the Prince, a graduate of Sir Gryphon's class, asked to dine with the class. The Duke, of course, had to join as well, and soon everyone was attending. Alexis was a herald now, way too old to be one of the girls in the dance, and with an official job to do as well. The halls for the dinner and reception were far greater than those in the old keep, and practically all the heralds were needed to announce at the many doorways.
The room was filling up nicely before dinner, with the usual buzz of conversation building into a blanket for the ears. Alexis scanned the crowd, tallying who was who, when a shout cut through the sounds, stilling them. "By god, what is this mockery?" The crowd moved back from the source, and she could see in the opening Sir Avenal, the Duke's Treasurer. His round face was a turning red with fury, and the focus of his anger was a young woman. Paris, Alexis realized, though it took her a moment to recognize the peasant. She was dressed in a nice dress; a bit out of style, and straining at the shoulders, but a nice dress nonetheless. No makeup, no jewelry save the badge of her order pinned to the bodice. And, looking as out of place as a dead horse on a buffet, a sword strapped on a belt around her. "What is this? What do you think you are doing? Do you think you know how to use that sword, that you've earned it? What..." Oddly, Alexis thought, Paris looked relieved rather than scared. She stared at the officer, not disrespectfully, but not cringing.
"Sir Avenal!" It was Sir Gryphon, stepping into the circle to confront the Treasurer. He was taller by a head than the other man, and the fact that Avenal's office outranked his did not slow him. The hand and a half sword he wore looked smaller on him than Avenal's broadsword did on him. "If you will care to show up tomorrow at practice, I will arrange a bout between the two of you. And mark my word. I've seen you fight. And I've seen her fight. You were never as good as she is."
Sir Avenal was bright red, barely containing his anger, at the center of the circle. "She is not belted. It is all well and good letting talented yeomen, or even a woman, out in the wilds use what they need in this emergency. But this is court, it is entirely different, it is not the way it is done!" "Yes, it is." A calm and quiet voice came from behind Sir Avenal. Prince William was gently moving through the crowd, leading the Duke and train behind him. He arrived to face the knight, but raised his voice to address the crowd. "Understand this, all of you. This is not an 'emergency' or an invading force that will be gone in a season. Our lives, our lands, and our souls are at risk here. If we fail to learn we will die. Vanish. She, " and while he pointed at Paris, all the eyes of the crowd were still on him, "is one of an order that has one Key to your survival. You ask what test she passed to become belted?" He pointed to the knights on each side of Avenal. "You, and you, and you, have just been killed. She," pointing at a servant standing nervously nearby, "has been kidnapped by the army that killed them. Do you, Avenal, have the guts to go follow them to rescue that servant?"
Avenal frowned. "What, a servant? My courage is not in question, sir, but it..."
"BUT SHE DID!" the prince roared, interrupting. "That is what earns her the right to wear that sword, and that emblem." He calmed down, dismissing the matter with a hand wave. "Forces beyond us judged her as passing the test that counts. To keep the Council happy, I shall have her take the test we know, when she has been taught. Until that time, I order that if she wears that badge she goes armed. Does any care to dispute me?"
The Duke cleared his throat. "I'd really rather no one dispute our liege. The cook has a temper, and I have no wish to explain why we ate the meat cold."
The steward, she noticed, recovered at this. He pounded his staff on the floor three times, and the Prince and Duke turned to go in to dinner. Alexis saw the Prince look at Paris and nod, then turned to escort the Duke's mother in to dinner. Alexis watched the crowd move past Paris, as she stood there. Finally, one of the other boys from Sir Gryphon's class, the deLacey boy she thought, moved to Paris and, extending an elbow, escorted her in to dinner.
Weeks passed. While not routine, the changes were becoming less frequent. Alexis spent more time in the Duke's growing library, reading the strange books that were being brought to the Duke. The books of magic were difficult to get to, so many wanted to learn that; but the books of legends and tales were hardly used.
[Now we get into things that the other players won't find out until later.]
It was late summer, after about a dozen harvests, when the news came of orcs on the plains of Pelier. An attack had come to Fort Carcassonne, the strategic fortress that protected the pass into the plains. Apparently, the King ordered a massive response, apparently thinking Westmore had been overrun, and sent his cavalry to break the attack. They quickly butchered a few hundred orcs that were camped around the fort. When they tried to return, though, they found their way blocked. The orcs had somehow tunneled through the mountains to the north of the pass, and had brought a huge army. Over the course of weeks, a little news filtered in. The army at the foot of the pass was dug in; infantry, not cavalry, would be required to dig them out, though they would be very vulnerable to an attack from behind. The plains to the west of the Rhone River were chaotic; often there were engagements between the orc and human armies. Word was bad, though, as the humans tended to lose these engagements. Someone very clever was directing the orc army.
A few messages had been passed out by some of Silverlocke's scouts crossing the mountains to the south of the pass, and making their way to the coast where small boats took the message across the Gulf of Lions. A relief army from the islands and the east side of the Rhone river was being assembled, but it would be months before it was ready. Still, the plan was to expand one of the few bridgeheads across the river before winter, so that the next year the plains could be cleared. Should it happen, Pelier had withstood sieges of more than a year before.
One bright spot was the establishment of a communications line to Dungeon, far to the north. There was a little concern that it might be a trick, but enough pieces had come through that made it seem reliable. Silverlocke, the go between, said he believed the earth mage that had the tenuous link; and that mage knew for sure that it was one of the Jouet villagers that had first established the link. In this roundabout way, a maddeningly slow communication could be maintained with the east.
Alexis was in the Duke's operation room when the Prince had to make one of his toughest decisions. As the orcs fortified the base of the pass, it became increasingly difficult for any of the scouts to get through. To the west, reports from the adventurers that went into orc holes was that there were a lot more orcs about in the forest duBois, and almost nothing in the orc holes. Silverlocke could get through either way, he was sure. The stories that were told of what he could do, well, four months ago Alexis would have called them fairy tales. But he could only go one way or the other. She watched the Prince's face. His sister was still in Westmore. Father, mother, brother in Pelier, last he heard. And who knows who else he cares about, she thought, as she watched his face study the map. No one spoke in the room, even when he looked at them. Finally, he beat his fist once against the map, and looked up at Silverlocke. "West," he croaked. The Baron nodded and left, and the prince started writing out other orders.
Two weeks later, he and the elf dragged themselves back in. The two of them had traveled, fueled by waybread, to the enemy's headquarters and back. He explained their plans, sketching out on the maps their marshaling areas, plan of attack, and resources. "Their leader," Silverlocke said, voice nearly exhausted, "is named Umim. I think it is the demon thing that snuck in here before and nearly killed the Princess. I had a choice of killing him or getting these plans back."
The prince looked tired as well. "You did the right thing. You know that. Go get some rest." As Silverlocke left, the Duke leaned over to the steward. "Anyone that disturbs him before noon tomorrow is assigned to stable duty for the rest of their life." And they bent to preparing a plan for the defense of the city.
Alexis wasn't in on the plans, but she could tell that many of the more experienced warriors thought it was crazy. The Duke planned to fight the battle at the outer wall of the new city, with only a fraction of the people he'd need to hold all twelve miles of front. He was going to gamble everything on the orcs sticking to their plan of attack, rather than retreat to the palace itself. If it failed, the horse troops might make it to the palace in time, but the levies would be butchered.
The orcs were expected at night. Alexis had been assigned as a runner, between the west gate that would be the center of the attack and the headquarters located one square back. As the sun set, she looked out over the wall. There hadn't been time, she guessed, to get all the crops in, seeing the haystacks that dotted the field. As the sun set, she heard wolves, dozens of them, crying out in a controlled and intelligent howl that scared her to the bone. A figure in armor moved next to her. "Sounds like they're right on schedule," Sir Gryphon said. He was the most experienced of the Duke's knights, and had command of the wall at the gate. He had both his students and regular soldiers, commanding bands of peasant levies. She had expected the peasants to be scared, but these had been drilling for weeks, under the tutelage of some odd kind of priest, a "monk" of some sort. Also distributed throughout the force she could see the colorful robes of the Rainbow clerics, there to provide healing and various kinds of blessing. The White Church, or at least half of them, were set up back of the wall in nearby churches to treat wounded. The mages that worked directly for the Duke were all set up on the top of the gate, with braziers and circles and other paraphernalia. "Go tell the Duke they are on schedule."
The Duke nodded. "Red flag," he ordered to one of the nearby guards. The guard moved away and waved a red flag at someone on a roof; it was relayed back and a few moments later huge red banners were rolled down the side of the great tower. Visible for miles, she thought. The duke addressed his commanders. "You know the plan. I'll be at the gate. I hereby place the forces of Westmore under the command of Prince William. May God save us all."
She returned to the gate, the Duke and his select just behind him. Sir Gryphon was waiting and watching. "Can't really see well, but you can sort of see something moving. Stay down, you over there," he hissed. Alexis crouched, looking out. In the faint light, it did seem that the land was moving. It reminded her of the time she had seen the ocean at night. But the sound was not like the ocean at all, it was the sound of many feet moving in pace to drums that counted cadence. "Time to move back," he told her, and directed her away from the wall. It was nerve-racking, waiting. She was sure he was waiting too long, when he finally turned. "Signal the catapults to fire. Archers, fire." The first ladder hit the stone a little away from him. "Repel!" he shouted.
A lot happened at once. Two dozen arrows, each carrying a lit rag, flew into the air. Many of them landed in the haystacks, which were soon burning. The catapults fired, tossing huge baskets of stone, all at one spot at the back of the army. She saw a flash of blue light, magic, trying to hold the stones back, but failing. Their mages cut loose at the same time, and all along the wall were the sounds of fighting.
She sneaked a peek. The field was lit by the burning haystacks, and showed a solid packed mass of orcs; big orcs, little orcs, ogres, giants, wolf riders, the whole gamut. They had committed their attack right where they were supposed to, and were trying to get through twenty feet tall of well-defended wall. Sir Gryphon, busily shouting orders, turned to her. "Tell the Duke stage two. Now!" he shouted at her, and turned back to the wall, smashing the head of an orc that had climbed a ladder.
The duke was not far, and seemed to be waiting for her. "Good. Tell the Prince stage two." He turned to his chosen warriors. "Watch yourselves. Open the gate," he shouted striding forward. As it opened, he stepped out into the path of a battering ram that was just being brought to bear, reached down to one wheel and flipped it on its side. As she ran to the Prince, she could see the orc army yelling and charging the prize of the Duke, and him laying about him with two handed sword.
The prince was waiting for her too. "Signal the tower stage two," he said. "Tell Gryphon stage three at his discretion," he said to her, and turned back to directing more of the fight. She could see a fire lit on the roof, and another lit on another, until on the tower they fired the big banners they had unrolled before.
Sir Gryphon nodded as she delivered her message. "Archers, fall back." Because of the battle on the ground below, as the orcs tried to get to the Duke, there were no orcs trying to climb the ladders. The knight kept watching, out in the darkness. They heard it before they saw it, a roar and a crash. A wave passed through the massed orcs, and suddenly they fell off of the ladders, dropped shields, and started running around madly. "That's it. Archers, to your position. Sequence fire, pick your targets. Anyone on a horse is ours." The archers stepped up, and began firing one after the other, each picking a different orc. In the firelight, she could see banners at the rear of the orc army. The banners of the First and Third Kingdom cavalry, she realized. They had brought the horse troops from Fort Carcassonne to here to attack the orcs from the rear. In front of her, the orcs were routed, running, trying to get away, panicked, and dying by the droves. Sir Gryphon sent her running to gather casualty figures from the sub-commanders. The archers kept up their steady fire until they were exhausted, and over the screams of the orcs outside she heard Sir Gryphon. "Tell the Prince. One dead, forty wounded from the gate. Casualties were mercifully light."
Ten thousand orcs had been in the army that attacked. It was uncertain, but they thought that four thousand orcs had been killed, and another five hundred captured. Forty-five of the cavalry died. Only twenty from the city had died, although the priests were still tending some of the wounded. There weren't enough healing spells to go around.
They had a ceremony in the Big Church for those that had died. First, the townsmen, the next day for the cavalry. Alexis listened to the sound of the children's choir as it resonated in the huge space. The twenty coffins were lined up across the altar area in the front of the church.
The fifth from the left was Reynauld's. She had looked in it earlier. The report had said he had broken his neck, killed before any could aid him. He just looked like he was sleeping. But they hadn't managed to put his smile on his face, and that's what she remembered about him. She accepted condolences with a definite "I'm fine" to any who thought to ask, and held a calm, straight face throughout. She spoke to mother Tanner, offering her condolences to her.
After the ceremony, she sought out Mandelson. "I'd like to try again," she told him, voice flat. Again, into the armor, and she faced a live opponent. This time there was nothing holding her back. She wasn't furious, wasn't angry, wasn't out of control; she had never been more in control. She followed the blade as it moved, attacking one then the other.
She was blindsided by Mandelson's shield as it knocked her down, and she noticed that one of her opponents was holding his elbow where she had hurt it through the practice armor. "Sorry, my Lady. But whatever was wrong before, you can sure fight now. I'll tell the Duke." He lifted off his helmet and looked at her. "You ok?"
"I'm fine," she nodded, still numb inside. She got up and returned home. She looked around her room. Everything was in its place, exactly where it was the day before. But it wasn't hers anymore; she wasn't the person that lived there anymore. That hurt, in a way she hadn't felt in a long time, and when she turned her mother was there in the doorway. She buried her head on her mother's shoulder and cried. Through the tears, she could see one lone black hair in her mother's grey.
"Alexis' Story" copyright 1999 P.Shea. The contents of this site are copyright 2004 Sheryl A. Knowles unless otherwise specified. All rights reserved.