The Long War 03 - The Red Prince by A. J. Smith

Author:A. J. Smith [Smith, A. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction & Fantasy
ISBN: 9781784080853
Publisher: Head of Zeus
Published: 2015-07-28T23:00:00+00:00

PART 1

CHAPTER 1

FALLON THE GREY IN THE REALM OF SCARLET

HE HAD BEEN functioning in a strange, twilight world for months. An in-between that didn’t allow for doubt or rest. He was kept alert by conviction, laid low by tiredness, strengthened by his friends, but weakened by his guilt. Maybe he was being tested. Maybe the One was trying to see into his heart. Was he a servant of a god or was he a brutal killer? Was the one exclusive of the other?

‘Wake up, Fallon,’ he said to himself. ‘Just wake up.’

The city of South Warden was the first thing he saw when he rose from his tent each morning. Right now he didn’t want to see it. The second thing was the sprawling camp of yeomanry. They were good men and loyal soldiers, but determination would only take them so far if they were forced to fight the knights of the Red.

The Red banners were a daily reminder that Fallon was a traitor. A traitor whose situation would get an awful lot worse before it would get any better. Although he had good counsel – Sir Theron, Vladimir, Brother Lanry and Major Dimitri – he still bore many burdens himself.

‘Captain,’ said Theron, by way of greeting, as Fallon stepped on to the grass for another tense day.

‘Anything new?’ he asked.

His adjutant shook his head. ‘Normal stuff. The knights keep sending detachments to ride in full-dress uniform across the plains... just waving their cocks at us.’

Fallon chuckled. ‘Informal language this morning?’

‘Sorry, sir, the situation of late has loosened my tongue a little.’

‘It’s okay, Theron. Hopefully, you’ll stop calling me “sir” in the next month.’

He strode away from his tent towards the eastern fortifications of the camp. They had built a wooden stockade and a wide moat, behind which sat their artillery – huge trebuchets armed and sighted at the distant city. Vladimir had overseen the work and the Lord of Mud was a surprisingly effective motivator when he was not drunk.

‘How are the troops?’ asked Fallon.

‘Tense. Nervous. Brother Lanry is doing his best, but ministering to seven thousand men is tricky.’

The Brown cleric was a good man and he would go without sleep if Fallon would let him, but the army needed more than a single churchman.

‘Oh, there is one thing,’ said Theron. ‘They were setting up some wooden contraption in front of the gates. Not a catapult. No idea what it is.’

‘Let’s go and have a look,’ replied the former knight of the Red.

They walked to a nearby ladder and, a moment later, stood on raised wooden planks looking eastwards across the barricade. The plain was largely empty, although small patrols rode back and forth in front of them. Cardinal Mobius and the king didn’t trust Fallon’s word, it seemed. The Red knights were not at rest and small figures strode along the distant stockade, as if they were waiting for something. He couldn’t see crossbows or loaded catapults.

‘There,’ said Theron, pointing to the newly repaired gateway. ‘Looks like a wooden cross of some kind.

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