Rodrigo of Caledon by David Feintuch

Author:David Feintuch
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2017-07-27T00:00:00+00:00

The King

PART ONE

One

AS AUTUMN GAVE WAY to winter, we swept down from the hills, a thousand strong, driving Danzik’s Norlanders from their barricades before dashing toward Stryx, royal seat of Caledon. Home, such as it was.

Captain Tursel urged our weary men to the coast road that ended in Stryx at Llewelyn’s Keep, held in stubborn defiance of the Norlanders by my vassal Tantroth’s Eiberians. Above that strongpoint lay Castle Stryx, still in the hands of my ruthless Uncle Margenthar.

In a shady grove at roadside, my mentor Rustin spoke with Earl Groenfil and my ward Anavar as the column trudged past. I spurred Ebon to their grazing, resting mounts. “Rust, the wagons are missing. They were supposed—”

“They’re over the rise.” Though there were but two years between us, my friend spoke soothingly, as if to a child. He jerked Ebon’s reins from my chapped fingers, withstood my glare. “Take ease, Roddy. Trust in Captain Tursel.”

I knew he was right; Tursel was an old campaigner loaned us by Uncle Raeth of Cumber for his experience. But Caledon was not a land of trust.

At last I took deep breath, and wisps of my frenzy melted, as mist before the sun. “As you say.” I managed to make my tone civil. I owed him that.

Rust added reassuringly, “We’ll be in Stryx by nightfall.”

Groenfil’s tone was dour. “Unless Tantroth betrays us.”

I massaged my left cheek, and the scar that ran from eye to chin. I well understood Groenfil’s unease. An hour past, Tantroth, Duke of Eiber, once my enemy, now my ally, had led his mounted guard along the coast road to Llewelyn’s Keep, where we must follow. If he failed to open the gates to us, we’d be trapped in the old city’s cobbled streets between the Keep and Danzik’s Norlanders, who, ousted from the crossroads, swarmed like maddened bees about their winter camp.

I’d fretted over the possibility, but try as I might, I couldn’t see how Tantroth could gain by betraying us to the foe. Only with our help might he dislodge King Hriskil’s Norland regiments from Eiber, and regain his domain. Else, he was undone. And Hriskil surely would not reward Tantroth with Eiber merely for my capture; the duchy of Eiber abutted the Norlands. Through Eiber, Hriskil had access to the passes between our realms. Hriskil wanted its high valleys perhaps even more than he coveted Caledon itself.

Earl Groenfil looked about. “We’re too slow; Danzik will regroup before our stragglers are past his camp.”

I glanced at Rustin as if to say, “I told you so,” but I forbore. “Give Tursel a hand, my lord, but don’t quarrel with him.”

“Aye, sire.” The winds stirred, a sign of Earl Groenfil’s displeasure. It was a Power of his House, as Caledon’s Power was the Still I wielded.

“I could help too.” Anavar looked hopeful. “Have I leave, sir?” At fifteen, he thought himself a man, and chafed at being ward of one only two years his senior. A year past, young Anavar had been an Eiberian noble, taken our prisoner during Tantroth’s savage attack on Caledon.

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