The Beacon: Blayne (1)
Episode 24: "Mission: Crucial"
Waiting in the square near the North Gate, Adon stood beside Renegade, a hand resting on the horse’s flank. The young day was already stifling, and the close crowd moving through the always-busy gate made it all the worse. He had tried fanning himself with his hat, but the temporary coolness it provided frustrated him because the effort made him sweat even more. The pleasant coolness of autumn, though only weeks away, seemed distant.
Ahead of him beside the gate, his crew stood waiting to leave. Mat, now clad in hunting leathers the color of dried grass, had crept forward with Daisy to eavesdrop on Bandrick and Ren’s conversation. Behind him, Artema and Mia talked animatedly, laughing over the younger woman’s retelling of their visit to the Royal College. Wearing black as usual, Mast strolled back toward Adon from his wagon. The blaring sun and its heat did not seem to affect him, though his walking pace seemed designed to use as little energy as possible.
Leaning against a post, the old ship’s cook tipped his hat up with a forefinger before crossing his arms. “Now, who are we waiting for?”
Grimacing, Adon grunted and spat. “I lost the argument with the king,” he said. “You know how that goes. Never expect to win an argument with a king.” He wiped his dripping forehead with his sleeve. “Anyhow, I told him I would rather take just the crew and the Oldham siblings. A small party would be less conspicuous. We could even disguise ourselves so we looked like a family moving to a new opportunity up north or something. But he would have none of it.”
“So, we get soldiers?” Mast asked, his eyebrows climbing his lined forehead.
“We get soldiers,” Adon repeated, nodding. “I said to Lorens, ‘How many? A squad?’ because I was sure that would be plenty for our needs since the crew can fight with the best when attacked. But he said, ‘No, I’m sending a platoon with you. I’ve already recalled Sir Lyle Manton to captain Palace Guard troops to provide security. As far as I’m concerned, your mission is just as crucial as mine.’”
The older man smiled under his bushy gray mustache. “You didn’t have a chance, captain,” he said. “The king had already set his plan in motion before you started talking.” He chuckled. “His choice of commanders could have been worse, though. If I remember, Captain Manton retired early. He’s still not that old, is he?”
Adon shook his head. “A couple years north of forty, I think. He married late and wanted to spend time with his young wife and children. I wouldn’t doubt he’d have risen to Marshal had he stuck around.”
“That’s what the scuttlebutt says,” Mast agreed. “So, who gets overall command?”
“I do,” Adon said firmly. “At least as far as the mission goes. The king told me to defer to Sir Lyle in military matters. I will gladly do so if we get into a scrap.”
Over the din of activity in the square, the sound of many hooves on stone reached their ears. While Mast sauntered to his wagon, Adon mounted Renegade and waited for the double line of troops to cross the square. They came in good order behind their commanding officer, stopping with precision when they reached Adon.
The captain scanned the faces of the soldiers and sighed, taking a moment before speaking. “Good morning, Captain Manton!” he said formally, saluting. “The king alerted me earlier to expect you here. Welcome to our expedition.”
Sir Lyle returned the salute. “Good morning, Captain Santinetta! The First Platoon reports for duty!”
“I see that,” Adon said, taking another look down the line as he resettled himself on his saddle. He also noted the commander’s fitness and geniality. “You are looking well, Sir Lyle. It appears retirement suits you.”
“Thank you, sir!” the younger captain replied in a pleasing baritone. “I’ve enjoyed every minute of it! But when the king calls for service, a loyal Margonni does not hesitate! I am honored to accompany you on this mission.”
His black uniform immaculate, his boots gleaming, every button shining in the morning sun, Sir Lyle sat his horse with perfect posture, not a bead of sweat visible. A tall, strapping, handsome man, he had light hair, tan skin, piercing blue eyes, and a strong jaw. He wore his hair short and well-groomed, and no facial hair had escaped the stroke of his razor. Several years before, when the man had retired to his country estate, the king had commented to Adon that Sir Lyle Manton was the perfect soldier, and his record backed up Lorens’ statement. Should our small company run afoul of the enemy, Adon thought, I can think of no better officer to handle our response.
“Captain Santinetta,” Sir Lyle continued, motioning to a young man who had ridden beside him, “I wish to present Lieutenant Linus dor Finan. Linus, this is Captain Adonis Santinetta of the Palace Guard and a special agent of King Lorens.” The two new acquaintances exchanged pleasantries. “Linus arrived in Palisade just recently in an exchange of young officers between Margonne and Aertella. Things being what they are, the king offered him the opportunity to ride with us, which he clearly accepted. His father and I served together in a joint expedition to Angeva many years ago. If he is anything like his father, we will be well served.”
Blond and blue-eyed, Linus dor Finan looked to be about twenty years old. Though of average height, he was heavily muscled, his light-blue Aertellan uniform stretching across broad shoulders. On his back, he carried a quiver of arrows, and a war bow hung from his saddle within easy reach. Across Osegra, archers from Aertella had a reputation for shooting with astounding accuracy and speed.
“I am pleased to have an Aertellan bowman in our ranks,” Adon said with a sincere smile. “I hope you will not need to use your bow, but if we run into trouble, we will be glad of it.” The young lieutenant grinned.
“Captain Manton,” Adon said with a slight bow, “if you would be so kind as to lead us up the Angeva Road toward Bridgeton, we would be honored. I will bring up the rear and catch you up when the road clears. We can reorder the train at our first stop.”
“Yes, captain!” Sir Lyle said with a nod. He called his men to move out, and the attentive gate sergeant cleared the way for Adon’s company to pass swiftly from the city.
About an hour later, Adon cantered forward and fell into step with Sir Lyle. They trotted ahead to put a little distance on the rest of the company, enabling them to speak privately. Adon asked about Sir Lyle’s family, which the recalled captain was only too happy to speak about at length. His sons were just old enough to begin serious martial training, and he was proud of their progress.
After about ten minutes, Adon broached what had been troubling him. “Did the king order the First out or did they volunteer?”
Sir Lyle smiled, though it was bittersweet. “Neither. Captain Baladan suggested it, saying the First needed to get away from the city, away from their failure, as they see it. Every one of them is depressed. They mourn the young prince and their officers and comrades. They lost their lieutenant and sergeant and a couple of fellow soldiers at the East Gate, and they all took it personally.”
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He paused, letting his big, dark-brown horse walk another twenty yards before continuing. “I haven’t been with them long, mind you, but I can tell the worst hit is Corporal Wilfrid, the Shepherd bless him. He holds himself responsible for Prince Carlonne’s death. He suffers from a bad case of ‘the shoulds’: He should have protected him better, should have been more alert, should have controlled his horse better, should not have let the wave of evil rattle him. It will take him a long time to work through it, Adon. But my opinion? Better out here than in the palace and under the eye of the king.”
Adon nodded but did not answer for a few minutes, gazing with unfocused eyes at the road ahead of them. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and soft, almost as if speaking to himself. “Most of them are just boys and never experienced any action. They’ve spent their time guarding doors and patrolling hallways, and reality has spooked them. But Corporal Wilfrid puzzles me. He’s a veteran. I would have thought him more hardened to loss.”
Sir Lyle grunted noncommittally. “One would think so in this business. But Sergeant Stag, who’s his old comrade in arms, said the corporal has had a slew of tragedies in the last few years. He fears he’s become a curse.”
Adon winced. “We’ll just have to convince him he’s not.”
A moment later, they heard rapid hoofbeats behind them, and both captains turned in their saddles toward the sound. A liveried horseman was approaching at speed, having already overtaken Mast’s wagon at the company’s rear. In the same instant, they recognized the rider as a palace courier.
The young man, small and finely boned, pulled his lathered mount to a hurried stop before them, giving them a quick salute. “I’m Armon Lamas from the palace, my lords,” he said, breathing hard. He dug in his pouch for a letter, which he handed to Adon. “The king himself asked me to give you this, and he gave me a gold piece to get it to you before the morning was out.” Grinning like he had just won a prize, he showed them the shining mark, a princely sum for a few hours’ work.
“It must indeed be important,” Adon commented as he broke the seal. His eyes swiftly scanned the dashed lines written in the king’s own hand. An eyebrow rose. “It seems the king has decided to add another to our company. We are to stop and wait for her arrival.”
“Her?” Captain Manton asked, his own eyebrows rising.
“Yes,” Adon answered, shaking his head with an almost imperceptible smile. “Her name is Gamila. She’s the Prophetess’ daughter.”
A note:
Palisade’s three main gates had been constructed at the same time almost two centuries before Lorens III’s reign when the capital’s inhabitants numbered perhaps one-fifth of its current population. The kingdom’s last three monarchs had commissioned plans to expand the gates, but other projects—road-building and -maintenance chief among them—had taken precedence and a large portion of the available funds. Before he left for Blayne at the head of his army, King Lorens ordered his architect to review, update, and even propose new, expanded gate plans, as he would throw himself into the project immediately upon his return. He would do what he could never to let anyone die in a narrow, congested gateway again.
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Back on the road again for Adon and his company. Now it's personal, though.