Bloodstone - Power of Youth (Book 3) (16 page)

“You can come with me or you can stay, Gasso.”

“I’m coming with you, if you’ll have me.”

Anchor clapped him on the back. “I thought you’d make the right choice.”

Anchor noticed Chika’s concerned face. “Chika, do you have any questions?”

“Will a Warstone be in the army?”

“I think it a good chance that Lotto will lead Valetan forces and I would be surprised if Princess Restella will let him out of her sight,” Shiro said. “Ah. Don’t worry Chika. We can teleport between camps. You can teleport right onto my lap.”

“Whenever you are ready and able, my leader.” Chika said.

Tishiaki grinned. It took Anchor a moment to understand the banter. Gasso looked lost.

“Do they do this all the time?” Anchor said to Tishiaki.

He only nodded. “It’s a little more difficult in your language,” he said and withstood a push from Chika.

“I’ve been looking at the maps and our campaign may take us a long time. I propose assembling our forces at the entrance to Learsea from the northwest to forestall a straight run to the capital. If your magicians can help with construction, I intend on building a series of fortifications to protect Learsea when Histron’s forces invade. Once they are repelled, then we’ll swing to the south through the southern dukedoms and then up to Foxhome.  I don’t expect a great deal of resistance along the way until we penetrate the Red Kingdom again.”

“What are your plans with Histo and Oringia?” Gasso said.

“Those are out of my hands. Prola and Valetan will have their own strategies. They will know more about those countries and how they fight than I do,” Anchor said. ‘Valetan has been constantly fighting the Oringians and constantly winning. I think they know what to do. Any questions?”

“Do you have a strategy for using the Warstones?” Tishiaki said.

Anchor looked at Shiro. “Do you?”

The man shrugged. The movement differed from a Bessethian and Anchor smiled. Both Anchor and Tishiaki would be getting used to a lot of new things. Unca never interacted much with others, even if he had to act as a spy.

Anchor looked at the three Ropponi as he took a sip of a proffered mug of water. “As I have learned, war, battle, saving people, all involve developing a strategy only to see the strategy crumble as circumstances change. Sometimes we are faced with an unexpectedly strong opponent and sometimes, we expect a fight and none transpires. I counsel flexibility in our course of action, but we need overall goals. I would prefer to use teleporters as messengers rather than rely on the Warstones for communication. We don’t know if Daryaku can listen in. What do you think, Tishiaki?”

The older man nodded. “A wise course. Anchor, perhaps you might want to show us your thinking in the map room and then I’d like to see you spar with Shiro. I’ve been waiting to see the both of you fight.”

~

Tishiaki showed his strategic expertise and repositioned the fortifications that Anchor had planned, using the terrain better than Anchor. They would work well together. It seemed to Anchor that setting up battle strategy had been new to Shiro and made sure that the Ropponi commander had all of his questions answered and that he understood the concepts.

The practice field would be in the shade by now. Anchor stood up straight. His back had stiffened up a bit, leaning over the maps for the most of the afternoon.

“I suppose it’s time,” he said.

Shiro’s face already glistened with sweat in the late summer sun as Anchor walked up. “I am ready to entertain Tishiaki,” Shiro wiped his blade down with folded paper. Anchor had never seen such a thing.

Anchor hefted his old sword. It had served him well and not so well since he bought it in Happly months ago.

“An antique?” Shiro said. “In your family?”

Anchor laughed and shook his head. “Just good steel, if it is a bit on the worn side.” The sword’s balance had improved, as his strength increased. He seemed to have recovered well enough.

Shiro used a sword that looked much different from the thin sword the rest of the Ropponis used. It looked more like the one he held in his hand.

“In the family?” Anchor said, knowing it couldn’t be.

“I recovered this with the Sunstone. It is a special blade, forged with power, forever sharp and likely unbreakable. The stone used to be here.” Shiro pointed to a hole in the blade close to the hilt.

If Shiro spoke the truth, the sword might be thousands of years old. The man constantly amazed Anchor, as did the unique shape of the blade. Anchor would not be able to hold the grip in both of his hands, but Shiro’s smaller hands nearly did as he warmed up with unfamiliar practice forms.

They faced off on the field. “We stop at first blood or before,” Gasso said. Both men nodded. “The purpose is exercise, not to establish who is better.” How many times had Anchor heard those words and fought to preserve life and limb.

Shiro bowed and Anchor put his sword in front of his forehead and swiped it to the ground. Anchor shuffled in the loose dirt of the practice field, keeping his blade in front pointed slightly down, his wrist loose as he had been taught, but his muscles shifted, never fully relaxed as he began to circle around Shiro.

The Ropponi reacted to Anchor’s movements in short jerky half-steps with his blade held over his shoulder and slightly higher than parallel to the ground. Anchor had expected Shiro to move smoothly, but every movement jumped from one pose to the same pose in a slightly different place. Shiro’s sword barely held both of his hands, but he moved his sword with startling precision.

Anchor saw the slight widening of Shiro’s eyes and the beginning of a flick of his wrist and his sword twitched ninety degrees and lashed out. Shiro intended on the blades clashing together, but Anchor lifted his blade to evade the backhanded slash and then slapped his blade against Shiro’s as he tried to return it to his previous stance. Shiro lifted his blade with lightning quickness and Anchor had to raise his sword for a parry. He flattened his blade, as did Shiro and the clash rung out in the courtyard.

Anchor kept himself on the defensive as he examined Shiro’s technique. When he had the gist of the style, he pressed Shiro, who would likely be as unfamiliar with his. His opponent anticipated his moves as well as he did and after three or four minutes, Anchor dropped the point of his sword into the dirt.

“Very good,” he said. “I think we should end the match and have a thorough talk.” The match had taken more out of Anchor than a match twice as long fighting any of his men. The match had wrung out his mind defending against an excellent swordsman using the foreign style.

Shiro broke into a grin and leaned against a post. Anchor was glad to see sweat dripped off of Shiro’s brow. “I agree. You would do well fighting Ropponi swordsmen.”

“Then we agree with each other,” Anchor said. “I am sure you can take on any in the keep and win. Even though our men won’t be fighting against Ropponi, before we depart for Learsea, we should spend two weeks training your Red Roses to fight against Bessethians.”

Shiro nodded, sheathing his sword. “The Happlyans only let us practice against each other. We fought them as we took over the keep, but more practice makes for better results.”

Two days later a messenger rode into the keep. He handed Anchor a message, but announced what the parchment said. “Prince Peeron is a day away. He wishes to confer with you before you leave for Learsea.”

After seeing that the man had a meal and a place to rest, Anchor took Shiro, Tishiaki, Chika and Gasso into the map room. He ran his hand through his hair. Anchor had met Peeron before as the Court Wizard and hadn’t been particularly impressed by the man. Actually, he wondered how King Willom could sire such a person. Peeron was his only reservation about serving Learsea. He hadn’t forwarded his opinions on the prince in any of his correspondence.

“I wondered if this would happen,” Anchor said. “I fear the Prince may assert his right to command the armies and has come with his own set of terms before I set foot in Learsea.”

The Ropponi looked at Anchor with narrowed eyes. “You’ve met him before?”

Anchor nodded. “He’s different from his father. Remember that,” Anchor said, pulling out the map that he wanted. “Look here. You see this set of hills leading into the Plains of Learsea? Since Tishiaki and I plan on setting up a series of fortifications that will hamper Histron’s army from plunging into Learsea, the prince might not agree and want to wage a single battle. The prince might not want the Learsea treasury tapped to support the keeps, but the Red Roses will become experts at construction.” Anchor turned his head towards Shiro who nodded. ‘We will see what the prince thinks. If we can’t build these forts, I will refuse King Willom’s commission and our plans will require modification.”

~

The prince actually had two men blowing trumpets announcing his arrival. Anchor only shook his head and Shiro grinned at Chika as they watched the long column approach. Shiro liked this vantage point. He breathed deeply and wondered if this prince would submit himself to the Sunstone.

“He looks handsome from here,” she said. “Tall with hair the color of dark flames or maybe he looks tall because his horse is actually gigantic. I do like the green silk coat. It reminds us of the pleasant color of the sea on our way to Besseth.”

Shiro burst out laughing as he remembered how the journey made them all sick except for him. Chika’s face nearly matched the color of Prince Peeron’s outfit during their voyage. “Let us see what he is truly made of,” Shiro said.

“It is that which is inside that’s important,” Chika said smirking at Shiro from the corner of her eyes.

He tried to stop his chuckling as she spoke. “Treat him gently, Chika.”

“As always,” she said.

The smirk hadn’t disappeared as the party rode through South Keep’s gates. The three of them walked down the stone steps from the walls.

Anchor put his hand through his hair as the breeze at the top of the wall had ruffled it. He looked a bit anxious. Shiro could tell that the man still wasn’t at ease playing the lead role in a possible political confrontation. Perhaps as a wizard he could always melt into the background. Not now.

The rankers lined up, standing at attention as the Prince led the way into the keep. His trumpeters continued to bray. Shiro’s Red Roses were in ranks with hands behind their backs and their feet spread out at shoulder width. He wanted his people to look different than the Gensler army. They looked formidable in their new red uniforms. Chika and Tishiaki designed their new uniforms while at Happly Keep and kept the River Red village women busy since they arrived at South Keep, sewing the new clothes. He didn’t know if he liked the combination of the Ropponi style with the Bessethian.

The trumpeters stopped. “Behold, Prince Peeron of Learsea!” The announced it in unison.

Shiro could do without the pomp. It seemed that was all that the Roppon nobility held sacred. The nobility and the bureaucracy ignored the common people and he wondered if Learsea did the same.

“Don’t bow,” Shiro said quietly to Chika and Tishiaki. In Roppon, a noble demanded a bow when visiting troops. They had bowed in Happly, but the show of respect only brought derision and Shiro wouldn’t stand for it here, in Gensler. Anchor agreed with him.

An officer helped the prince dismount. “Where is Captain Anchor?” he said, looking right past Anchor and the rest of the keep’s officers. Peeron looked the part of a prince. His flaming hair actually went well with his green silks. He stood a few inches shorter than Anchor, but had the undeniable swagger of a pampered noble. Shiro had seen plenty of Ropponi wizards with that swagger. He couldn’t recall liking a single one. He imagined that a Bessethian woman would find his features attractive.

The shadow of a smile moved Anchor’s lips as he stepped forward. “Your highness,” he said, bowing.

Chika jabbed Shiro in the side and gave him and angry look as she nodded her head towards the prince. Shiro shook his head, hopefully not enough to be noticed. He didn’t know if he’d ever figure out Bessethian manners.

Anchor continued, “Welcome to South Keep. I am honored you have chosen to escort me to Learsea.”

The prince laughed as if Anchor had something hilarious. “I am merely passing through. I seek out Princess Sallia, Duke Jellas and the Valetans.”

“But—”

The prince waved Anchor’s protest away with a white-gloved hand. “I will return to Learsea to assume command of the armed forces later. My father is ready for you to serve him as soon as you arrive at Learsea. That takes weeks, my dear Captain.”

The prince might appear to be a strutting peacock, but Shiro sensed the prince’s instant dislike for Anchor. He couldn’t deny his own quick dislike for the prince. Shiro wondered if he should withdraw his offer to fight for Learsea.

“You can at least spend a couple of nights in the keep and rest your horses and your men.”

Peeron raised his eyebrows  “You do have a point about the horses. Very well. As long as I am here you may show me what your perspective is.”

Anchor blinked at the prince’s crack about the horses and his pointedly not including his men. He looked at Shiro. Anchor’s expression told him all he needed to know about Anchor’s regard for Prince Peeron.