Book 5, Chapter 30: Carlisele
The slope steepened, and we had to use long switchbacks for the wagons. The brush was straggly, muted, covered in dust from the large army that had passed through here not too long ago. We were doing those bushes no favors ourselves. Trees up a little higher, but only so far up the mountains.
As we crested the hill, the landscape reminded me of a saddle. Smooth where we were, long high mountains on either side, for some distance. But I worried the seat was a little wide, perhaps two hundred fifty yards or so. Maybe, just maybe we could cover it with our sarissa. I hoped.
Soldiers were waiting for us atop the hill. Once we identified ourselves, they directed us toward the center of the camp.
I slowed my horse, waiting. Then rode over to the captain of the honor guard Hafthon sent. We hadn’t talked much at all, nor did I knight him as I’d threatened. A part of me felt guilty for that. Tough. I pushed that aside. “Captain, I’d like to personally hand the messages you’re carrying to the earl.”
He looked at the sentries for a bit, and not at me, then said, “Forgive me, my lady, but I don’t think that’s what Hafthon had in mind.”
“He’d probably like a parade and celebration but that’s not happening.” I waited.
He waited.
Clouds moved above us. Dark birds flew into the trees beyond and I saw some four legged shadows darting here and there below them. Those, at least, brought an inward smile to my mind.
“My lady, I must carry out my orders.”
“Ok, so here is where I typically point out the obvious. That I’m the reigning monarch. That I could accidentally melt that mountain over there. But I’m not going to. If you are determined to carry out your orders as Hafthon gave them, then you are waiting to give those to Carlisele until I invite you to.”
“As my lady commands.”
My fingers tensed on the reigns. Riding forward, I shook off my annoyance. Hafthon chose his men well. At least, equally frustrating to himself.
***
A blond-haired man I recognized separated out from the horsemen waiting at the top of the hill and headed this way. “Your Highness! It is good to see you again!”
“Captain Thrace, very good to see you as well. You are on guard duty?”
“Sentry duty. As per my role at the castle.” He looked over my shoulder, past our companions, “My lady, where is the army? Are they waiting a safe distance behind? Heading to flank the enemy?”
“I’d rather relay that information to Earl Carlisele myself. But tell me how you are and how things stand.”
“I’m well. As well as can be on a military campaign. We only arrived two days ago and are still preparing the encampment and the field. The enemy has been sighted and is coming this way.”
“Damn. I was hoping they were further out.”
“Unfortunately, they are soon arriving. Allow me to lead you to the earl’s command tent and you can learn the details.”
Hafthon’s captain was beside me, and it was probably rude of me not to introduce them, but so it goes. The big man rode up in his darkened full plate armor. In the saddle, I turned to him, saying, “Morry, get the smiths building those ballistae. With however many men you can round up to help. Once those are done, we’ve got to get the smiths working on building catapults. I’m going to talk to Carlisele.”
“You sure you don’t want me to come?”
“I’m not worried about him. Maybe a little. But I can handle the whining and pouting.”
He looked over at Hafthon’s captain. His grim face broke out into a rare grin, “Just don’t burn the place down.”
***
After the honorifics, we’d sat in a tent, at a desk with maps and reports on it. A larger table, with the battlefield map, was off to my left. He was wearing chainmail, but not full plate. Scouts had advised him of our coming.
“Am I to believe you did not bring your army with you, Princess Cayce?”
“No, I’m sorry. I brought-”
“Wizards, I hope. We are facing steep odds.”
I sat down. “No wizards. Or wizardesses.” I fought the urge to say ‘just me,’ and after taking in a deep breath, saying instead, “Weapons. New weapons. They’re being assembled even now.”
“I’m not sure we have the men to spare, nor the time to train them. How many men did you bring?”
“These are different. Large weapons. We really just need teams of four or five operating them. They’re, uh, like large crossbows. They loose thick spears and are powerful enough to kill a rhino.”
“Hmmm. And men? The reports of their army were underestimated. They brought 300 000 troops.”
My mouth fell open. “That . . . is larger than I imagined.”
He crossed his mailed arms. “Soldiers. How many did you bring?”
“None. Fifty, I guess. Carlisele, that’s not why I’m here.”
“Why didn’t you bring your army?” He stared at me for a time, probably because I had no answers. “Princess Cayce, did you lose your army?”
“It’s complicated.”
“How did you survive the battle if your army is lost?”
“Brundle’s taking care of the army for now. Listen, I’m going to talk to, I’m here to try to get the emperor to see reason.”
“Reason?”
“You’re going to make me say it? Damnit, Carlisele! I’m offering myself to him. To marry him, do anything, to prevent his attack.”
He facepalmed. First time I’d seen anyone do it but me. Surprised that he knew how. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but I didn’t feel flattered.
“I had hoped . . .” Dropping his palms to the table, he actually reached across, “To sacrifice yourself for the kingdom is a noble gesture, but this would be a fool’s errand. You aren’t going to change his mind. I’m afraid if he learns of your presence here, he’ll just attack all the more eagerly to capture you.”
That was probably the nicest sentiment he’d ever given me. “Hoped?”
“That you’d brought your army. With your trained and tested sarissa infantry and the new heavy cavalry, we’d have a chance.”
“Ah.”
“It’ll be better if you don’t parley with the Laemacians.”
“I don’t intend to.”
“Good.”
“I’m going to ride over there alone and speak to him.”
“Don’t be foolish.”
“I won’t be much help here.”
“Perhaps not. But if we simply give the enemy our monarch, it will demoralize the men.”
“You’ve changed Carlisele.”
“And you’re still an immature girl with unwise plans.”
I crossed my arms. “There’s a chance he’ll agree.”
“No. He’ll just take you captive. Perhaps even show you off to our troops. Princess, you’re yet young and you don’t know the levels that men like him will sink to. He might string you up to demoralize our soldiers. Parade you naked. You cannot go talk to him.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought about those options. Yeah, I could see Darius, perhaps even Genghis Kahn doing something like that. Both sides in the Crusades might have done so, but I couldn’t remember. Maybe they just boasted about how tough they were. Regardless, I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to resist letting loose my magic were Otholos to strip me, string me up. I shuddered at the thought. Perhaps it would be foolish to talk to him.
“Princess? Tell me about the battles.”
“Yeah,” I blinked, coming out of my nightmarish thoughts. “But first, messages. Here. You’re not going to like them.” Whoops, I thought to myself, couldn’t quite remember the captain’s name. I snapped my fingers loudly above my head, “Hafthon’s man, the messages!”
***
It’s quite boring to watch another person read. Maybe not for telepaths, as they could listen in, but I didn’t have that skill. I therefore stood up and went to examine the battlefield map table.
It showed a string of mountains, shorter than I’d imagined, and our pass. And what I guess was a large plateau, but must have looked like a wide, open field, before the pass. The Laemacian army would have no choice but to camp there. I wondered if we could flood it. Probably not. No large dams around when you need them.
Carlisele was still reading, but I spoke my thoughts out loud anyway, “I don’t get it. Why don’t they go around this pass?”
He looked up. “These messages are deeply troubling. Did you really . . . did you . . .”
“What? Oh. Yes and yes. Carlisele, Brundle’s probably put the army back together, but it’s also likely around thirty to forty percent of its original strength. We lost a lot of people in that battle.” I fixated on the map, trying not to feel anything. Weeks ago. The battle, not so far in the past. Yet it felt like months, years prior, and I felt numb.
“And you have magic?”
Hafthon’s captain stiffened. “My lord, I witnessed it myself.”
“I’m asking the princess.”
“Could you dismiss the good captain here. Also, where are your generals? And the archbishop?”
“My generals are preparing the army and shaping the land. Fortifications, but not the kind mages can readily use. Archbishop Ghevont is getting the medical tents ready. Would you like a tour of the encampment?”
“Perhaps later. Could you explain this map to me?”
Not looking up, I heard the captain’s boots leave the tent. Well trained, didn’t need a command. I probably should have gotten to know him, make friends, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. It all felt so beneath me. And these feelings disturbed me greatly.
“Yes, the mountain range is short.” He came over to where I was standing, ran his hands along the mountains. Took a deep breath but didn’t quite sigh. “Young officers always ask these questions. Yes, it’s possible to go around. But if they do, we’ll attack their flank. Or take their cities. They won’t want to leave an army behind them.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Also,” Carlisele tapped our position, “they likely want to destroy our army. If their information is up to date about your losses to the Ketzillian forces.”
“The Ketzles are worse off than we are, my lord.”
“Yet your army is not here.”
“Hafthon will be joining us soon. And his army should be intact. It won’t be enough men, though, some sixty thousand. Perhaps more if he’s able to conscript the Ketzillian non-officers.”
“Those are his intentions, according to these letters. He expects some twenty thousand additional troops from the Ketzles. Princess Cayce, will you answer my question now?”
“I’m going to exalt you to duke. If that’s your question.”
He slammed his hand on the table, “You know that’s not my question!”
“Goddamn it, yes. Yes I have magic. Yes, what Hafthon wrote about me in there is true. No, I’m not going to destroy the Laemacian army with it. Trust me on this, that is a part of me you do not want to see. Even against our enemies.”
“Hafthon writes that you’re an exceedingly dangerous person.”
I looked up at the man. And for the first time noticed his age. Dark spots under his eyes, deeper wrinkles in his worried frown. Defeat writ large on his face. “Yeah. He’s probably right about that, Carlisele.”
“If you won’t destroy their army . . . if they have mages, will you stop them? Can you?”
“Mages. Look,” I shook my head, “I’m not well controlled. If they have mages, and those mages attack, and I engage them, the only thing you can do is order a full retreat. Get the army off this pass, down into the valley below and as far away from me as you can. I will kill the mages. And I don’t know if I’ll stop killing.”
“Father?” Brin’s voice, entering the tent behind me.
Carlisele quickly said to me, “You brought my daughter to a war zone?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but Brin beat me to it, “I didn’t give Cayce a choice in the matter.”
“You shouldn’t be here. You’ll pack your bags and head back to the castle.”
“I will not! I am here at the service of the princess, as her mistress of the bedroom.”
“Your father’s right, Brin. It’s not safe for you to be here.”
“It won’t be safe at the castle, either, if you cannot win here. At least here I don’t need to wait to know whether I’ll be sold into slavery.”
Carlisele and I shared a ‘god this is frustrating, but what can you do’ glance. He sighed, shoulders turning inward, and said, “Brinley, the princess and I are having a military discussion. We’ll talk more later. Please, go . . . and set up the princess’s tent.”
“Thank you, father. But I came here to report that the smithies are busy building the new weaponry. They’d like to know the best locations to place them.”
“Can’t Morry work that out?”
“No one knows how these quite work. You might want to give a demonstration.”
“Oh.”
“I think we’ve about covered all we can here, Princess. And I’m eager to see your new weapons.”
“Right. Let’s, ah, go do that then.” I was a bit stunned. He hadn’t whined or yelled at me, much, and was letting our previous conversation go. Either I’d been severely misjudging the man or he rose to leadership under duress. That, or he’d given up, moved past the denial stage and was in full acceptance of our upcoming defeat and deaths.
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