Chapter twenty-five

Amansk

 

The first of the knights reached the small lakeside city at about two pm on the fourth day out of Castle Uberwald. They camped on the high ground to the west and the Baron had the Crimson Flame emblem unfurled. The banner was very large and could be seen clearly from most of the town. It was soon joined by a flurry of lesser flags, all flapping menacingly in the harsh wind. The army waited.

Arnon had summoned his troops several days before and asked them to assume defensive positions. However, he only had a few thousand men and there were no useful strongpoints to defend. Any largish force could take Amansk, but none had ever wanted to before. But now things were different – it had gone from a backwater to a strategic hub in the blink of an eye.     

Beyond the mobilisation of his military forces, which amounted to not very much, Arnon had two diplomatic cards to play. He could trigger his alliance with the Oketian city states, which, theoretically, would bring them all into a war; and he could appeal to Eth, as the most powerful co-adjoining nation. Arnon had been reluctant to do either of these things, however, because of the threat to his daughter. But now he couldn’t avoid it – his city would require it.

So, as soon as Arnon knew that they were under imminent threat he went into his study and wrote three letters.  He penned one very rapidly to his father-in-law, Lord Arbutus, the Governor of Gorodnikov:

 

My dearest Father,

It is with great regret that I inform you that my dear city is in its greatest danger in living memory. The Knights of the Crimson Flame, who were to me just a legend, have come out of Formor and now threaten us from the west. We are in desperate need and any help that you can send would be inestimably welcome.

I will send Dominic as liaison officer, with this letter. Please accept my apologies if this seems inappropriate, but he is the only one I trust to send and who knows Gorodnikov well. You should know that I greatly value his contribution to my court, particularly his influence on my son, who is wild and reckless. Dominic had done a marvellous job of calming him down.

I cannot overstate the seriousness of our plight. The Crimson emblems of our enemies fill our western horizon.      

Please reply as soon as is possible.

Your loving son,

ARNON, PRAEFECTUS

 

Arnon sighed. He should have sent this letter days ago, as well as one that explained what had happened to Arbutus’s granddaughter. Now he’d sent one but not the other. He only hoped that news of the kidnapping had not got through to the Governor through the grapevine.  What could he do though – no-one could avoid the law of unintended consequences.

He folded the letter, placed it in an envelope, addressed the envelope, and sealed it with the old imperial praefectorial stamp. It looked both extremely official and terribly outdated: perhaps that didn’t matter, the days of an inpendent Praefectus might well be numbered. The best that they might then hope for was to be become a province of Formor. But what use would that be? He knew that he needed to find a way to fight, but how could he when they held his only daughter? Who could ever fight if he thought that the thing he loved more than anything else in the world might be destroyed?

He felt a pang of guilt about the other partial deception in the letter he had just written. He wasn’t sending Dom to his father-in-law because it was the best political decision; he was sending him to remind Arbutus of the past, and of the size of the favour that he still owed Arnon. This was a cynical decision, but what choice did he have? By the time the letter reached his father-in-law his beloved city might be up in flames. Amansk was a timber built city – it would go up like matchwood. His heart almost broke to imagine it. 

Ours is a beautiful little city, he thought, we never did any harm to anyone. What have we done to deserve this?

He forced himself to pick up another piece of paper from his desk drawer and to write upon it. He knew that the High Lord needed to know what was happening, but he was also sure that he wouldn’t, and perhaps couldn’t, act at such a distance and for such a paltry ally.  Still, it was worth recording exactly what had happened and who was to blame. He made a special point of describing in detail that odd man Balliwick, as he didn’t trust him for a second. Perhaps the High Lord knew something more about him. He’d have to send this letter north as fast as he could.

Arnon’s third letter was to Marthian. This was the easiest one to write. She just needed to be warned about exactly what was happening. He wondered what she was doing now and whether she was better prepared than he was. It was odd that he’d never actually met her, and he had never seen her white city out there in the wilderness. 

He placed all three completed letters in his desk drawer and locked it. Then he stood up, shook himself like a dog shedding puddle water, and called for Viktor. Viktor appeared at the door, looking very pale.  Arnon pointed back out of the door.

‘Go and find Toby and Dom for me, would you’ he said, ‘I have some work for them to do’

 

***

The two friends had seen the banner almost instantly, as it was preceded by the thunderous noises made by an army on the move. They had slipped out of town unnoticed by the city guard and made their way to the side of the lake. From there the banner could be seen very clearly, and it was possible to get a good look at the congregating army on the hillside.  They looked like a carpet of red flowers, resting on a sea of horses.

They peered out at the army for several minutes before either of them spoke.

‘How many do you think are there, Dom?’ asked Toby, turning to his friend, ‘your eyes are better than mine’

‘I’d say we can see ten thousand’ said Dom,’ but there must be many more to come’   

 ‘So, from those chaps alone, we’re already outnumbered’ murmured Toby, turning now to look back towards the city. 

Dom followed Toby’s gaze and patted him on the shoulder. Sometimes there wasn’t much that could be said. They stood there for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts. Dom sat on a rock and watched Toby very carefully.

‘We have to do something! We can’t just let them walk all over us’ said Toby 

The prince walked a few steps forward as if advancing towards the enemy. He went to draw his blade and then realised that he had been in so much of a hurry that he had forgotten to buckle it on. Dom stood up gracefully, unbuckled his own sword and scabbard and offered it to Toby with a flourish.

‘Are you mocking me, Dominic?’ the prince asked, a little sadly, still staring at the enemy hoards.  

Dom shook his head and returned the sword to its scabbard. He scratched his chin thoughtfully.

‘I thought that you were making a symbolic gesture’ he explained

‘No’ muttered Toby, kicking the sand, ‘just me being a bit of an arse’

 

They sat on a white skeletal log that had long been lying by the side of the lake. It was as hard as bone or iron. The northerly wind blew through them and then veered west.

‘We have to do something, though – this is our home’ said Toby

‘Yes,’ said Dom, ‘but fighting now would be pointless. We need to postpone our strike until we’re stronger’

‘What about my sister?’

‘Fighting will only make it worse for her, I’m guessing. Maybe she’s up there with Baron Von Thing’

‘Perhaps…’ said Toby, unconvinced.            

They stood on the lakeside watching the wind blow wave after wave on to the shore. Toby wondered if the knights would be as hard to resist. ‘Well, only one way to find out’ he thought.

He turned back towards Dom and gestured for him to come forward.

‘Let’s go and see if she’s there, then…’ he said, ‘…and Dom – maybe I will need that sword, after all’