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Two Kingdoms 34: Messages

Started by DoctorM, April 29, 2023, 02:21:36 PM

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DoctorM

TWO KINGDOMS 34: MESSAGES

This is the thirty-second part of an AU construction about a Gwynedd where the duel at Kelson Haldane's coronation went very differently indeed. We are now almost three years into the Gwynedd Wars-- Charissa's new kingdom at Valoret against the Haldanes in the south and the kingdom of Torenth in the east. This episode follows immediately after "Carnevale". As always, comments and suggestions are very much appreciated.


The Duke of Marley and Eastmarch is pushing his way to the table, grim-faced. Captains and clerks and the evening's selection of well-scrubbed  and half-clad local girls scatter at his approach. Marley looks down at the unrolled map of the southern Rhendalls and the Argoed river basin and turns back to his staff. No one wants to meet his glance.

"Well," Bran Coris says, "he's a sneaky little bastard, Kierney is. This was a well-planned ambush, though. I'll give him that. But I'm still going to send him back to Kilshane in pieces. How much did we lose? Was it the whole effing supply train?"

One of the older captains straightens his shoulders and nods at the duke. "All of it, your Grace. Everything we were sending up to the front. Burnt or taken. Including pay chests. Most of the men-at-arms in the escort were killed, the rest ran off back to Tarleton."

The duke snaps his fingers for more wine. "What else? What about the forward positions on the river?"

Another Marley captain points to the blue line of the Argoed. "Two of the big fortified manors we had along the river— both abandoned when the news came in. Those were hired men, your Grace. We hired them out of the Connait; they weren't  ours. No pay chests, so they scarpered."

Bran Coris sets his wine cup on the table. "Here's what I want to see. I want to see heads on this table. I want heads, and I want them soon. Whoever was commanding at the manors, whoever was in charge of the convoy escort, if he's still alive. Go look for them. I want examples made." He rakes his eyes over his officers. "And I want to know how it happened. I want that in detail."

The older captain gestures at the map. "Kierney's Alaric Morgan's brother-in-law. He may have had help— Corwyn advisors could be with him."

Bran shakes his head. "No. Don't go blaming it on Morgan. Morgan's still  busy down south. Morgan's mine to deal with one day soon. This debacle is local, and it's our fault— my fault. So listen up, you lot."

He sweeps his wine cup along the line of his commanders. "I've got Gwyllim in Tolan with the Queen, and he's handing out fistfuls of my money in bribes to people. I'm paying a whole pack of courtiers at Valoret to tell the Queen and Brechlin about what a fine captain-general I am. My son's a royal favourite, and one day he'll by God marry any daughter the Queen has. I'm going to take Claibourne for the Queen, and I'm going to effing take Cassan, too. We'll crush the Haldanes and their friends here. When the Queen hands out rewards, she's going to see a Marley flag first in line. And we'll have all of Old Kheldour— if that  bastard Kierney doesn't get in the way."

"Not all of Old Kheldour." one of the captains says. "Not the Kheldish Riding. Not the north coast over  to Stavenham."  That's very near the line.

Coris draws in a breath. "The Queen's man is Prince of Kheldour now. You think I'm stupid enough to cross her on that? I have Eastmarch already, and I'll probably have Truvorsk in Torenth one day. The Queen will give me Claibourne and probably most of Cassan, too— if I keep winning out here. But I have to keep winning. Things happen like they have with this supply train, and there are lots of people— and Gwyllim and I are thinking about Burchard de Varlan —who'd like to be captain-general.  And lots of people who'd like to be a duke up here, too.  That's not happening. So I want to know every effing detail of what went wrong in this goddamned ambush. And I want heads— on this table, and soon. Briefing tomorrow afternoon."

The duke stares down at the map. "Oh— and I'm damned well going to have the Earl of Kierney's head, too. He's on my to-do list."

One of the captains looks over, uneasy. "Your Grace...we all understand about Kierney and Duke Jared and Duke Ewan. But...you're not saying that Kheldour is on your black list, are you?"

Bran Coris stares at the man. "What did they do, drop you on your effing head a few times when you were born? Kheldour's the Queen's man. She'll never give him up, and if anyone touches him, she'll have them flayed alive and strung up over the Valoret gates.  I'm captain-general of Tolan and the West and I have Eastmarch for my own now— the Shadow Queen gave me that. I made a choice back at Rhemuth, and I'm riding that horse to the end of the line. I'm staying on the Queen's side. The Queen married Kheldour, and I can live without the Riding. Besides, by tomorrow breakfast the Grey Death will know everything anybody's said here tonight. I don't have a lot of use for Kheldour, but he's the Queen's man, and I'm loyal to the Queen. Everybody remember that."  He looks at his empty wine cup. "Now let's think about how to deal with young Kierney. And somebody get me more wine— and go find me one of the local girls, too. Not one who looks like my wife. Better, go find me two."

****

Christian's eyes snap open in the dark. There's a voice in his head, and his mind's eye is filling with a rush of red and black. Peregrine, the voice says, peregrine, peregrine.

Red for the voice, and a wall of black pushing through his mind's eye. He's seen storm fronts coming on the steppe, black walls of cold and wind moving across the grasslands. That's what this is, he knows: a storm is coming down the hallways at the ducal palace.

He's always been a light sleeper, and he swings out of bed and grabs for a robe. His stiletto is there on the bedside table and he snatches it up. Red fills his thoughts, and he catches himself on the table's edge. Visions from the hallways flicker behind his eyes. He can see the hem of a dark khilat robe sweeping over stone. A slender bare foot kicks into rough blankets and strikes at sleeping servants on the floors. He can hear the voice, too: Get up! Everybody up! The queen's up off her ass, so nobody sleeps! He's heard her voice most of his life, and he's heard her rage at courtiers and officials. But nothing like this. Never in that voice.

He can hear other voices behind her, too. Her ladies-in-waiting are pelting up to her— your Grace, your Grace! Your slippers! Your shift! You can't be out like this! Guards' voices, too, voices in Darija and the Tolan tongue, calling out orders.  He jerks the belt of his robe tight and pulls open the door to the antechamber. Tonight's guards are Gordon men, with young Donal Gordon staring at him, blank-eyed. Christian pushes past them and grabs at the handles of the outer door. The storm's almost here, and he's here to meet it.

Christian is barely a step or two into the hallway when the Queen arrives, trailed by her ladies and a growing tail of Queen's Moors and Tolan Guard. She's in a black khilat, her hair loose and wild. There's witch-light in the hallway, and he can see her face set into pale fury. The line of the scar from her nose to her cheekbone is hard and pulsing, and he has to make himself not step back at the sight of her. Charissa slams past the guards and he grabs her shoulders. "What's happened?"

The queen stares into his eyes. "It's Rhydon," she says. Her voice is a cold rasp, and he can feel her muscles tense and corded under her robe. "It's Rhydon. Rhydon came for Kyri."

"Oh, God." He takes a breath. He has to ask. "Is she still alive?"

"She's alive," Charissa says. "She mind-called me. They came for her at her house at Calraige. They were Rhydon's men. They killed all her guards and her servants. She got out, just barely. She hid in the rafters in an outbuilding. She had one-use Portals hidden on the grounds. She got to one. She's in Dartraige now. She doesn't know if they're tracking her."

"Maybe Rhydon could. Maybe. I don't know what he can do with Portals. I couldn't track through a one-time portal, but maybe Rhydon could. But she may be safe."

Charissa drops her voice. "She could hear them in the house— Rhydon's bravos. They were talking, and she heard them. They were talking about what it would be like to have a high-born woman. They were talking about what they'd do to her, about all the things they'd do before they killed her. She told me all that. I told her I'd come find her."

Christian flicks a glance over the queen's shoulder. Yusuf al-Fayturi is standing there, breathing hard from the dash down the corridor. He has enough sense to keep silent. Even the queen's ladies know enough not to say anything.

Charissa is looking past him at the dark of the bedchamber.  Her voice is very precise, very quiet, very taut. "When we find Rhydon," she says, "I'm going to peel his face off. And when we have Wencit, and we break him on the wheel, I'm going to make him wear Rhydon's face while we break his legs." She shakes her head. "Kyri has a one-time Portal in the Rathark hills.  There's a house on Roiste land. We can fetch her from there. I have to—"

"No. You can't." He s squeezes her shoulders. "I'll... I'll go. I'll bring her back. Kyri doesn't like me much, but she knows me, and I think she trusts me. I'll go."  He pulls her in to him. "I'll bring her back here. You know you can't go. You know that. I'll have her back here soon enough. Whatever you want to do to Rhydon and Wencit, we'll do that together."

The queen takes his hands. "It's not just Kyri," she says. "If Rhydon came for her, he'll have other bravos out, too. We have to send to Thorne in Kharthat. We'll get Thorne and his girl here, before Rhydon's people come for him. We have to warn him now."

"I'll go find Kyri. I'll take my people. You find Thorne Hagen. Tell him...tell him he has to come here. We can send your Moors. Even his castle at St.-Stephane won't be safe. We'll deal with Rhydon. We will."

Charissa looks down at herself, at the half-tied khilat and at the crowd filling the hallway. She draws a breath. "I know how to hate," she says. She looks at Christian. "I hated Brion Haldane because he killed my father. I hated Aldred when they wanted me to marry him in Beldour. I hate Stefan Coram, too. I hate Tiercel de Claron for how he treated Kyri. The others— Duke Nigel, the hand-and-eye people, even the Haldane boy —I don't really hate. That's all just about being queen.  I'll kill them, but there's nothing personal to it. But this, this is real hatred. It feels pure. It's like pure fire. It's like witch-light: pale and clean and pure. It makes me know exactly what I have to do."

Christian looks back at Donal Gordon. "Go get your brother. Tell Michael I want ten men. I want all Deryni, and I want at least a couple who are huntsmen or trackers. I want them down in the courtyard, in armour, within the next hour. Tell him we're going to the Connait."

Charissa holds up a hand on edge and stares at  it. There's no tremor at all.  "Bring her in," she says. "Go bring Kyri back. I'll find Thorne and tell him what's happening." She turns to her ladies-in-waiting. "You lot— with me. Bring my slippers. I'll even wear a shift under my robe, just for you. Just keep your effing mouths shut right now. I need to think." She reaches for Christian's hand and pulls him back with her into the bedchamber.


****

Amberlyn, the man's name is. Or maybe Hamberlyn. Bran Coris keeps his face arranged and looks at the unfolded letter on the table. The man's from Meara, and he's careless with his spelling. This Amberlyn, now— Cormac, his name is —is here with a message at Marley headquarters, and Bran Coris is sizing him up.

The man is probably in his early forties, still handsome in that heavy Mearan way. Amberlyn's a border chieftain, and he's related in one way or another to half the nobility of Meara, at least to hear him tell it.  And he's here in this confiscated house in the Rhendall hills with a message.

The Duke of Marley tilts his head. "You go back a ways, don't you, my lord? Back to King Brion's day, isn't it?"

Amberlyn shifts in his chair and shrugs. "We had our differences, Brion Haldane and me. He wanted me outlawed, but he didn't get around to it, and more's the pity for the Haldanes.  I'm still here and he's dead and buried. Your queen in Valoret's doing."

Bran Coris picks up a knife from the table and prods at the letter. "And you're here with a message. Keep talking." The tip of the blade circles the heavy wax seal.

"You just lost two big forts to young Kierney, You hired  some pack of wood kerns from Transha and Laxalt to hold them. You should've known better. Those kind, nobody trusts them even if they're paid coin in hand. So you're not doing well in Rhendall country, are you now, Queen's captain?"

Coris looks hard at him. "So you're doing what, looking for a job? Hiring out Mearan kerns of your own, border lord?"

Amberlyn nods at the letter. "Not quite. But there's somebody who could help you in the Rhendalls. Princess Caitrin says she might be able to help you."

"Caitrin of Meara. And she's a kinswoman of yours?"

"Oh, back a few steps up and over to one side, but— yes. Princess Caitrin's a relative of mine. We're all family in Meara. If she asked, a lot of family would be there to help you."

Bran Coris looks back at his aide Campbell standing there in the shadows and raises an eyebrow. "The seal's a Quinnell crest," Campbell says. "It's real or it's a better fake than I've ever seen."

The duke grins at Amberlyn. "I think I liked you better when you were just hiring out soldiers. What's Caitrin Quinnell have to say to me? She has a claim to Meara— why should she help the Shadow Queen's general?"

"Make a list," Amberlyn says. "Duke Jared, Duke Ewan, young Kierney, too. What did Brion Haldane tell them to do? He told them to keep Meara down. Why should we have any love for Brion Haldane's enforcers or Brion Haldane's son?"

"He told them to stop you raiding towns and reiving cattle out of Meara all the way to Carbury, Amberlyn. And, well, we all know what the Mearan lords want. They may hate the Haldanes, but why would they call in a Festillic queen? Let's remember who I serve."

"It's in the letter," Cormac Amberlyn says. "Meara wants outsider boots off our necks, and those boots have been Haldane all these years. We remember every expedition the Haldane kings have sent into Meara. Meara remembers. But we're not trading them in for Festillic boots. Give Princess Caitrin a charter. She pledges allegiance to the Shadow Queen and calls for a rising against the Haldanes. We send men to fight in the Rhendalls for you. We strike at Cassan. We get a charter that says home rule in Meara— no outside garrisons, rights to make our own laws and have our own courts. No Gwynedd taxes, we pay a contribution negotiated every five years. We contribute troops, number to be negotiated. And the Quinnells on the throne." 

Bran Coris shakes his head. "Not asking for much, are you?"

"Don't ask, don't get."

"Princess Caitrin gets to call herself queen in Meara. What do you get?"

"Maybe Kilarden. Maybe Laas. Maybe Cuilene. Maybe. My kinswoman knows how to reward good service. Just remember— we're the ones who can turn things around out here. If you bring us in and we march up to Ballymar and burn Duke Jared out, your queen'll make you the new duke of Cassan. Or you can just tell her you'll be duke up there, thank you very bloody much."

Bran Coris tilts his head and smiles. "Not a lot of finesse in that, my lord. That's a damned clumsy bribe." He pushes the flaps of the letter open and looks at the handful of sentences in awkward Latin. There is much to discuss, to our mutual benefit, and for that of your queen. I beg you consider my offer, your Grace of Marley and Eastmarch, and consider your own future here in these western lands.  He darts a quick look back at Campbell. "You're telling me to set myself up as duke on my own. With Mearan soldiers, is it? That's awkward, now, don't you think?"

"Princess Caitrin wants the Haldanes gone, your Grace. Gone for bloody ever. She'll cut a deal with the Shadow Queen. We're willing to talk about that. There's no reason we all shouldn't come out of this better off than when we went in."

Bran raps on the table. "I'm fighting the Haldanes up here, Cormac Amberlyn. I have Kierney and Cassan and Claibourne to kill. If your Princess is willing to support us, well, that furthers what Queen Charissa wants. Go take a message to Caitrin Quinnell. We'll talk. We'll talk about her future, and what happens in Meara. You're right— coming out ahead in the Gwynedd Wars is where I want to be.  I'll write it down— we'll talk about your princess aiding my queen. And we'll talk about what happens in Cassan, too. Everyone has a future to plan for."











Jerusha

Wonderful chapter!  I confess, I am not sorry Marley is having a bad day - he is a bit of a rotter.  You did have me initially convinced the Shadow Queen was under attack (nice touch!), though an attack against her friend is also an attack against her. 

And now we draw Meara into the fray....
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

DoctorM

Quote from: Jerusha on April 30, 2023, 03:35:38 PMWonderful chapter!  I confess, I am not sorry Marley is having a bad day - he is a bit of a rotter.  You did have me initially convinced the Shadow Queen was under attack (nice touch!), though an attack against her friend is also an attack against her. 

And now we draw Meara into the fray....

Bran is not used to bad days, and he's likely to respond badly...and without using his better judgment.

We need to see how Christian handles rescuing Kyri...and if Rhydon can get at Thorne and his young lady.

Meara...one more crack in the ice, one more party using the Gwynedd Wars to deal with their own particular issues....

DerynifanK

I must say I was happy to see Bran having a bad day. Frankly, I hope it gets worse, no one deserves it more, especially since he appears to be planning wholesale murder. Bran appears to be something of a wildcatter. I wonder how much of these discussions and plans he discusses with Charissa and her advisors.
"Thanks be to God there are still, as there always have been and always will be, more good men than evil in this world, and their cause will prevail." Brother Cadfael's Penance

DoctorM

Quote from: DerynifanK on May 01, 2023, 02:05:21 PMI must say I was happy to see Bran having a bad day. Frankly, I hope it gets worse, no one deserves it more, especially since he appears to be planning wholesale murder. Bran appears to be something of a wildcatter. I wonder how much of these discussions and plans he discusses with Charissa and her advisors.

The queen's advisors are unlikely to have a problem if Bran wants to collect enemy heads. They would be unhappy if Bran slipped the leash, though. There's a line to cross where Bran would start to seem too ambitious. Bran is useful, and the queen has her uses for him. But...there's always a line that he might cross...

DerynifanK

He is very ambitious and not always very controlled in his responses. I could see him going too far and causing Charissa a lot more trouble than she she wants to deal with, starting too many small conflicts that can grow into a conflagration. Or betting the idea that he could replace the Queen. He strikes me as something of a loose cannon.
"Thanks be to God there are still, as there always have been and always will be, more good men than evil in this world, and their cause will prevail." Brother Cadfael's Penance

DoctorM

Quote from: DerynifanK on May 01, 2023, 09:12:54 PMHe is very ambitious and not always very controlled in his responses. I could see him going too far and causing Charissa a lot more trouble than she she wants to deal with, starting too many small conflicts that can grow into a conflagration. Or betting the idea that he could replace the Queen. He strikes me as something of a loose cannon.

I agree wholeheartedly!  And I don't think he sees that he isn't as controlled as he thinks he is.

drakensis

He's clearly aware there is a line he should not cross.

It's entirely possible he's wrong about where that line is.

DoctorM

Quote from: drakensis on May 03, 2023, 01:11:56 AMHe's clearly aware there is a line he should not cross.

It's entirely possible he's wrong about where that line is.

I quite like that. It's quite true, for so many people.