Seeker (The Source Chronicles Book 1) (15 page)

They walked in, shaking off the rain and removing their damp cloaks.  A raider took the practice swords from Cam, and another offered him and Lyrra-Sharron hot tea. 

Cam accepted as gracefully as he could, still unused to being treated with any kind of respect.  Lyrra-Sharron wandered off to a table to have a conversation with a group of raiders, so Cam took a seat.  It was only a moment before a pair of young men approached him.

“Lord Cam?” one asked tentatively.  The Sorcerer looked up at him.  “Will there be quarterstaff practice this afternoon?”

Cam sighed to himself.  Definitely not something he was used to.  “Indeed.  You learn how to fight without good footing in this kind of weather.”

The lad grinned.  He couldn’t be more then fifteen, Cam thought.  “My friend Alran, here, hasn’t joined us before.  We wanted to know if it was alright if he was there today.”

Cam looked at the other young man.  “You want to watch, or learn?”

Alran shifted on his feet.  “I’d, uh, like to learn, Lord Cam.”

“Alright then,” stated Cam.  “Be there.  And relax, boys.  It’s just Cam.”

They muttered their thanks, then hurried away, clearly excited.

“You should let them add the title,” commented Lyrra-Sharron from behind him. 

Cam hadn’t heard her approach.  She came around the table, and took a seat.  “You are a leader, here.  It is a sign of respect.  So if they call you ‘Lord Cam’, let them.  You have never thought about what it would be like to have a title?”

Cam looked into his tea.  “Not really.  I was an orphan, a rat on the streets of Aldara.  Rats don’t have titles.”

“It used to be that I would not have understand what you went through, growing up that way,” replied Lyrra-Sharron.  “I am a princess.  I wanted for nothing, had the finest education, and was always addressed with a title, even by my friends.  I have spent much time among the populace since I left the comforts of my station.  I can see your point more clearly.  I presume it would be awkward to have a title, when you have never known one.  It can be awkward for me to drop mine, having always had one.”

Cam looked into her eyes, saw a hint of distant pain.  “Understood.”  He changed the subject.  “Well.  Uh…where are the others?”

She came out of her brief reverie.  “Torman just rode into the village, he is seeing to his horse.  Dak went to get Nadav.  It seems he disappeared with Meliana last night, so we think she may have, shall we say, kept him busy.” 

Cam smirked at that.  “Anyone else coming?”

“Andim and Kallan are at the bar.  Morick came with Nadav, and Torman brought Neva.  We should be starting soon.”

Cam acknowledged her, and finished his tea.  He looked to Lyrra-Sharron’s empty mug.  “More tea?”

She grinned.  “Why certainly, Lord Cam.”

He groaned as he stood up, going to the kitchen to refill their mugs without further comment.

Chapter 13

“But then I was sure we were caught,” commented Andim.  “This soldier had been over the bed of the cart twice, and he kept eyeing us like he knew we had something to hide.”

“So I says to him,” picked up Kallan with a hint of mischief in his tone, “look, we were supposed to leave yesterday, and had a good cargo to take to Mintarn.  But when the curfew was imposed…”

“Our patron made other arrangements,” continued Andim, as though it was he and not Kallan who had begun the sentence.  “So I add, ‘yeah, and his brother just happened to be going to Mintarn for something else, and offered to transport the stuff for free.  Since it was already going to arrive late, the guy decides to save the transport fee, and we find him with nothing this morning.’”

“So I decide to take it just a bit further,” said Kallan.  “I say to him, ’So we had arranged another cargo run from Mintarn back here, and we couldn’t find anything that needed to be transported from here to Mintarn first, but we had to get on the road.”

Andim completed the tale.  “And to add insult to injury, I say ‘We were doing just fine til
you
stopped us.’  Well this soldier, he sighs, finally starts bobbing his head.  ‘Yeah, ok, you can go.’  So we just snap the reins, and get out of there nice and peaceful.”

“Good thing the guy we stole the cart from hadn’t reported it yet,” remarked Kallan deadpan.

Torman, Nadav and Neva began to laugh at that.  “The two of you must have all the luck the Gods can spare,” commented Neva.

Lyrra-Sharron admitted to herself that she’d been curious to hear how the duo had managed to get out of Gara-Sharron following their freeing of the Sorcerer.  So she’d let them conclude the story as she listened in.  “Alright, my lords and ladies, let us begin,” she interjected, taking control of the meeting.

All eyes were now on her, the casual conversations finished.  It was time to take them through the next step of her designs.

“As you are all well aware, our name has been getting out to the People.  As we had hoped.  And they know that I lead the Falcon Raiders, though they are only just beginning to learn our true purpose, so the time is coming where we will have their support.”

She had considered the approach to this point for a long while now.  She changed her tone.  “The trouble is, that may take more time than we have.  While we are known, now, far and wide, the King becomes more and more concerned, and thus more desperate.  It will not be long before he commits all the resources at his disposal to finding and eliminating us.  We need to act, before that happens.”

Lyrra-Sharron knew she had their total attention, and other than a wry look on the face of Cam Murtallan, the others were rapt.  “For more than a year we have raided small merchants, attacked and disrupted Sharron Army patrols, and generally made ourselves known using guerilla tactics.  All the while, we have been training, diligently, thoroughly, to take our next step.  I have a plan that will advance that step, and I will share it with you now.”

She stood, and began to pace.  They had this room to themselves, of course, loyal guards outside to keep anyone away, short of a warning that the Sharron Army was bearing down upon them.  “My father derives a large portion of his strength from the military.  The Sharron Army is the largest on this continent, and most likely the best trained as well.  They have been tested again and again, and shown that they are absolutely loyal to General Bodrir, who in turn is loyal to my father.  While our tactics have thus far made us a nuisance to the army, we have yet to prove ourselves to be a threat to them.  Their power remains unchallenged.  And that is the key to our victory.”

Lyrra-Sharron stopped, leaned upon the back of her seat, eyeing each of her officers to hold their attention.  “So long as he keeps the loyalty of the military, he keeps his power.  But if we can undermine this, if we can be a real threat to the Sharron Army, his power crumbles beneath him.”

“What do you have in mind?” questioned Dak, his look calculating.

“We swing our focus from guerilla assault tactics, to larger scale military strikes.  We start hitting the Sharron Army directly.  We focus on them, now…and we erode Varlock-Sharron’s power.  And we begin this by taking the fight directly to them.  We attack Sharron Army barracks.”

“Barracks?” Torman questioned.  The former soldier, commander of the Falcon Raider base at Tarmollo, could not hide the concern in his eyes.  “That’s bold.  And very risky.  I know, your Highness, that we’ve trained our recruits well…but they’re no match for the Sharron Army regulars.”

“I disagree,” responded Lyrra-Sharron.  “We have indeed trained our recruits well.  I believe as well, if not better than, the vaunted Sharron Army.  Most of our trainers are ex-military, so we know many of their strategies and tactics.  Our own leaders have proven their prowess against those we have faced thus far.  I believe that if we face them directly, we can defeat them handily.”

“Are you sure this isn’t too much of a risk?” queried Nadav softly.

“There is little in our mission, Nadav Rivarr, that is without risk,” Lyrra-Sharron answered.  “But if we are to topple Varlock-Sharron from the throne, his muscle must be atrophied, and that muscle is the Sharron Army.  We destroy his strength, we remove that which allows him to hold his power.”

She changed her tone once again.  “And while we are at, so that the People do not forget us…everything we take from the barracks, we pass on to the poorest communities in the nation.”

Her voice grew stronger, her conviction unquestionable.  “With the People behind me, and the Sharron Army’s support of the crown deteriorated, Varlock-Sharron will have no choice but to step down, and I will be made Queen.” 

Cam was the first to stir.  It was clear he was not comfortable.  “Uhm, excuse me for my ignorance, but are we going to attack with intent to disrupt, as you’ve been doing thus far, or to kill?”

“We will not grind down the King’s strength by simply disrupting activities further,” Lyrra-Sharron replied.

“So you’re proposing we murder innocent soldiers?” asked Cam.

“They are not innocent, Cam Murtallan,” commented Lyrra-Sharron, doing her best to hide her annoyance.  “They know whom they follow, they know the risks.”

“But these are your own people.”

“No, they are my father’s people.”

“I see no difference,” stated Cam.

“You have no understanding of military tactics, Cam Murtallan.  You have to realize, to properly depose the King, he must have his legs cut out from under him, in addition to the people being behind me.  Soldiers know the risks.  They are prepared to die in combat.”

“Of course they are,” agreed Cam.  “Against hostile forces, not rebels amongst their own people!”

“We’re not simply rebels,” said Torman.  Lyrra-Sharron had heard more than once Torman’s lack of respect for the ‘powerless’ Sorcerer.  “We follow the legitimate successor to the King of Sharron.  We just believe she should be on the throne now, rather than later, while she can do some good where it’s needed.”

“By killing her own soldiers?”

“It won’t be easy, but it is necessary,” commented Andim with a tone that spoke of his decades of experience.  “They still pose the biggest threat to us.  If that is removed, when the people swing support to Lyrra-Sharron, the King will be forced to abdicate the throne to her.  When the army swears allegiance to her, they cease to be the enemy.”

“I still think we should avoid killing as many as possible,” stated Cam adamantly.  “We don’t need to be bathed in blood to get Lyrra-Sharron the crown.”

“You still do not understand,” said Lyrra-Sharron, nearing the end of her patience for the Sorcerer’s impertinence.

“Then explain it to me,” replied Cam, clearly picking up on her mood.

She let out an exasperated breath and took her seat before starting.  “Things work differently in Sharron than the rest of the world.  There are three powers in Sharron.  The Crown, The Council, and The Common.  The Crown, in this case my father, is the head of state, commander of the army and navy.  The Crown makes law and policy.  But The Crown is also bound by regulation and protocol, and tradition.  The Council, which includes the Seneschal, the Exchequer, the Army-General, Guardsman-Captain-General, Naval-Admiralty, Constabulary, Foreign Ministry, Intelligence and Envoys, carries out laws and policy.  The Common sees to it no-one oversteps their bounds.  A representative from every village, town, city, and region is there, along with any nobility so inclined to sit in on proceedings.  If a grievance is brought up about The Crown, they vote on what to do about it.  For example, if a legitimate claim against The Crown is made, say there is too much conquest, or too many taxes, or too many starving and oppressed, The Common votes on what to do.  Two Kings were deposed this way, historically.  Though it is not, technically, the law, traditionally the King is bound by the sway of The Common.  A crown without support has nothing to rest upon.”

“Can’t The Crown dispose of The Council and Common at whim?” asked Cam.

“Yes.  Members of The Council can be dismissed by The Crown, as can the whole of The Common.  But to do so would weaken the position of the entire Kingdom, and our enemies would jump at that and overrun us before anyone caught their breath.  The Common is how the King knows the will of the people.  If I get The Common behind me, my father will be made to step down, lest the honor of The Crown, and the House of Anduin, be forever soiled.”

“So that’s why you couldn’t just kill him,” said Cam matter-of-factly.  “If you had, The Common wouldn’t have let you hold The Crown, and your honor would prevent you from deposing The Common.”

“Lest I open the borders and let our enemies overrun us,” concluded Lyrra-Sharron.  “It has happened before.  When Queen Walia Val-Cara of the House of Tilroan was murdered by her first son, Galronn Val-Cara, the Common did not support his claim to the Crown, and gave it to his brother, Lowenn Val-Cara.  When Galronn refused to relinquish his claim, the Council simply threw all support to Lowenn, and Galronn was forced to relent.  If things had gone differently, Galronn’s sons would have succeeded him.  As Lowenn had no children, and died only a few years later, Varlyn-Sharron of the House of Anduin was given the crown by support of Common and Council.  We have held the Crown of Sharron ever since.”

“So that’s what you mean by legally being made Queen,” stated Cam with a tone of long sought comprehension.

“Now do you understand?” questioned Lyrra-Sharron.

Cam shrugged.  “I suppose.  But do we still need to kill the soldiers of the army to win you support of the Common?”

“Can you think of a better way to diminish my father’s strength, while getting supplies to the most impoverished villagers of Sharron, so that I can win their support?”

“Won’t the Common and Council look unfavorably at your killing of innocent soldiers?” asked Cam.

“You still do not appreciate the situation, Cam,” replied Lyrra-Sharron.  She did not like her plan being so thoroughly questioned, and was going to make it so the sorcerer would be out of objections.  “They are soldiers.  It is their duty to fight when called upon.  That is how it shall be seen.”

“Pawns,” remarked Cam distastefully.

“Soldiers.  Fighters.  Men trained in the arts of warfare,” said Lyrra-Sharron.

“Cam does have a point,” said Dak thoughtfully.  “Maybe we should consider a, shall we say, less destructive approach.”

Lyrra-Sharron looked at her second in command, having to get hold of a momentary flash of anger.  “You have another idea?”

Dak nodded to her.

“I am listening,” she said, doing everything in her power to not speak venomously as her ire arose.

“Needless bloodshed may not help our cause, and lessening our own casualties is a plus.  Instead of hitting barracks and scouring the army, what if we strike merchant caravans?”

“We have been doing that already,” remarked Lyrra-Sharron with clear annoyance through gritted teeth.

Dak shook his head.  “No, we’ve hit small, individual merchants.  If we hit the bigger caravans, that would be noticed.”

“Yes, by the villagers,” stated Lyrra-Sharron.  This was not going at all as she had planned it.

“You’re missing the idea.  If we take out the escorts protecting those caravans, complaints will be heard by the Common, Council, and Crown.  When your father is accused of being unable to protect the merchants properly...”

“I get it,” chimed in Neva Alcarra.  Lyrra-Sharron was understanding Dak’s idea as well, but was not convinced it was better than hers. 

Neva, elementary healer, widow of a soldier, Torman’s lieutenant and probable lover, continued.  “We disguise ourselves as common brigands, hitting a few key convoys and guards.”

Dak acknowledged Neva’s comprehension of his plan.  “Correct.  Next, we quietly offer the merchants protection.  Word gets out that the King is unable to protect the merchants, but the Princess can.”

“Interesting notion,” said Lyrra-Sharron, unconsciously echoing her father.  Dak’s plan, she was loathe to admit, did have the advantage of being less bloody, though not entirely without.  “But we still end up killing.” 

“Maybe not,” added Torman.  “We might be able to force the guards away, and we could take the cartmen and wagoneers with far less trouble.  Bloodshed would indeed be less than if we strike the barracks of the Sharron Army.”