Richard Parker - Elsewhere

“And you are sure the city is the key?”

“Yes,” Hothgaard repeated with a sigh. The High King seemed fixated on Solarii, the former capital, located high up on the finger of Massi. “Arnot was foolish to attempt to defend Solarii and the surrounding peninsula…his son seems not so inclined. The way to Solarii has been left open and undefended. Manse is the key to holding the country; from there you control access to both the plains and the Plateau.”

“And Lynndon?”

“Yes, but Lynndon can be a bottle neck on both levels…let the Deutzani have Lynndon,” Hothgaard replied. “If you can persuade King Weldon to attack and crush Gwaynn and his army, then we could hit Manse from two sides. As it is, Gwaynn will not push too far south…not with the Knights at his back.”

“I’ll speak with him,” King Mastoc answered, “and I’ll be leaving in three days time.”

“Very well,” Hothgaard answered then sat quietly and tried to convince himself that everything would be all right. Even so, a feeling of doom spread over him like a warm, wet blanket. ‘More like a death shroud,’ he thought and with a wave dismissed Speaker Nadler.

ǂ

Tarina Grace moved down from the ramparts where she was supervising the repair work on the section of wall that caught fire during the last attack. The work was going well and moving along quickly. Every defender expected another attack while they were vulnerable, so motivating the townsfolk to work fast was not a problem, but the Temple Knights remained camped quietly in the distance. It was a mystery to Grace why the Knights did not immediately make another attempt to take the city walls. She expected them to come the night of the first attack, once the fires died out, but they did not. Now she was beginning to suspect the Knights had some new strategy in mind, something unsuspected, something deadly.

She knew Manse was vulnerable and she believed strongly that it would fall during the next attack. She absentmindedly walked back through the growing town, trying to think of a strategy to save it from destruction. The Massi people were braving the constant threat well, and many smiled at her encouragingly as she passed.

‘It would be a shame to lose the place,’ she thought. ‘The people of Massi are working hard to rebuild.’

When she reached the edge of the Scar, just before the bridge that led to the Plateau above, she veered to the west and moved among the hospital tents. The day was growing cooler; fall had arrived at last. It was not a good thing. Her body was getting old and didn’t handle the cold as it once did; she just hoped this war would be over before the full force of winter hit.

“Tarina!” Doctor Linkler called out as he emerged from a nearby tent. He immediately joined her, walking in stride and smiling at her as if she was a very good friend.

“You are preparing for the move?” She asked and his face became grave.

“It will not be easy to move some of the seriously injured,” the doctor replied.

Grace frowned. “It’s less than twenty miles and the Plateau is perfectly flat,” the Tarina insisted. “And you must admit, if the city falls…and I believe it will; the wounded would be far better off in Colchester than here.”

“Yes,” the doctor agreed tentatively. “I cannot argue that they would be better off in the short term, but if Manse falls will any of us be safe?”

“Oh Manse will fall, unless Prince Gwaynn can quickly defeat the Palmerrio and reinforce the town with his fighting men.”

Linkler remained quiet, resigned to the fact that he would be moving along with all those able to travel.

“And Samantha?” Grace asked as they walked into the main hospital tent.

“She is awake, sore but doing better,” the doctor said. “It was a nasty fall, but she sustained no broken bones, and the baby seems to have come through no worse for wear.”

Grace spotted Captain Cyndar almost immediately although for the first time the Tarina actually was able to see the woman’s face, which was finally without bandages. As she walked closer, Grace realized that the Captain was a truly beautiful woman. Her hair was dark brown, nearly black, and hung to her shoulders in soft waves; she had dark eyes to match her hair and a flawless, creamy complexion. But she sported a new scar that ran along the line of her jaw on the left side of her face. It was her only flaw…but as Grace studied the woman she got the distinct impression that Cyndar was proud of her new look. Of course, it was not a rare thing for male soldiers to take a certain morbid pride in their battle scars…but a woman?

Cyndar was currently sitting on the edge of a bed, topless, her arms up in the air, revealing a pair of large, well formed breasts. She was apparently unashamed by the nature of her situation. The Captain seemed relaxed and unaware of the attention she was garnering, even though every male eye within the large tent was now glued to her semi-clad figure. A young nurse was busily wrapping a tight bandage around her midsection. There was only a tiny spot of red on the otherwise white linen.

“You are well?” Tarina Grace asked, and she eyed the bandages higher up on the woman’s right shoulder.

Cyndar’s eyes stayed sharp but she nodded. “I will be able to return to the wall,” she said with an added look of determination.

The Tarina studied the young woman for a moment. ‘She would have made a fine Tar,’ she thought and wondered how Noble missed such an opportunity.

“I’d like you to lead the wounded and any civilians who wish to leave, out of Manse,” Grace replied, deciding to get right to the point. She did not believe the woman before her would be swayed by pretty words and arguments.

Cyndar frowned and her eyes flashed. “I will stay.” She answered bluntly.

“You’re to be commended on your courage,” Grace replied. “And you’re a fine fighter, the best Manse has…even wounded, but the town will fall and the wounded need to be moved before that happens.”

“Manse will not fall,” Cyndar retorted, slightly insulted and wondered at her own misplaced loyalty.

“It will,” Grace insisted. “And when it does there will be no time to save the wounded. They need to be moved to Colchester…we’ve already contacted the magistrate there and they’re preparing for the influx.”

“I will stay,” Cyndar repeated and could not keep the threat of violence out of her eyes.

Tarina Grace caught and recognized the look. “I would not ask this of you if you were not among the wounded…and I’ve had the same discussion with Samantha Fultan. Prince Gwaynn would not thank me if either of you were sacrificed for a lost cause.”

“Samantha,” Cyndar whispered with a faraway look in her eyes. “The baby!”

“The baby’s fine,” Grace told her quickly, mistaking

Cyndar’s hope for concern.

“Samantha has agreed?” Cyndar asked, surprised.

“Yes…she is brave and led her archers well, but she is with child and beginning to grow heavy. I cannot look after you both while the Knights storm the walls…it’s too much,” Grace added and noted the slight change in expression on the woman’s face.

“Manse will fall?” Cyndar asked, apparently on the edge of being convinced.

Grace nodded. “We may hold through one more attack. If the Knights had attacked in the night, the city would already be in their hands.”

Cyndar sat silent for a time as the nurse finished her bindings, then she stood and gingerly put on her shirt, hiding her breasts. Grace could almost hear the groans of disappointment coming from the men around her, but she ignored their distress and concentrated on Huntley.

“We need you to lead the wounded…they need their Captain,” Grace added glancing to doctor Linkler, who nodded and gave a slight, encouraging smile.