Crystal King (Riland Throne Book 1) Read online

  The Cats of the Apocalypse backed off. She saw Willem drop his control over them and noted the change in behavior as they turned to trot back to the edge of camp, ears forward and tails held high like flags announcing their pride at the victory over the raven.

  Willem sat up as the cats arrived to settle in on his blanket for some much-deserved attention and praise.

  With the crystal attached, it might have been safe to let the bird go, but Saleena wanted to keep an eye on it and begin its training up close. Her makeshift cage of willow twigs and string would hold the bird, at least for the start of its training.

  Saleena placed the bird in the cage along with a generous crust of bread and a small plate of water. Once she secured the raven, she reached for the matching crystal and was about to put it on when Willem stopped her with his hand on her forearm. “You’re too tired to train it. You can’t do everything. We can find someone else, or I can train the bird.”

  “But I so want to fly, to view the land from above and see things from a whole new direction. It sounds beautiful.”

  Willem grinned. “You could fly up there and poop on the caravan.”

  Saleena scowled. “You have a chance at the ultimate freedom of flying, and all you can think of is poop? Boys.”

  “No, really. Swoop in on the new baron and let loose from above. He’s avoided you for days now, so you can get even with him and put a new stain on his leather armor.”

  Her scowl increased. “Gavin hasn’t avoided me. He’s been busy. I’ve attended his council meetings to tell them about how crystal training is going. He has all these people to lead, and I’m only one of them. There will be time to be friends again later when all this is over.” She stared out at the fading sun as it approached the rolling plains to the west.

  “Yeah, but what about the two of you? You haven’t even been for a walk alone with him since before this all started, have you?”

  She shrugged. “It’s not like that. We’re not as close as we used to be, but we work together for all these people.” She waved her hand to include the whole camp. She hoped to convince herself as much as she hoped to convince Willem. “It’s important work, and I’ve been busy, too. We’ve made saddlebags for some of the cattle so they can carry more, and we have litters they pull along behind. They take turns on the litters because they’re heavier. They’re used to the loads now because of the training I’ve done, so I won’t have to control them as much anymore. I’m contributing in ways I never dreamed of.”

  Adrian sat next to Saleena, who let out a squeal of surprise. With her hands raised almost to her throat, she blurted out, “I thought you only jumped out at Gavin.”

  Adrian grinned like a jester. “Really, Saleena, I must keep up on my practice or my reputation as a sneak will be destroyed.”

  He inclined his head to Willem and said with a sly grin, “She’s beating around the bush. She meant to say Baron Stoutheart won’t chase you off if you wish to spend time together.”

  Saleena stared at Adrian, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Despite her open mouth, words fled and she failed to come up with a reply.

  Willem looked away. “But I was only –”

  Adrian held up a hand. “Don’t ruin the moment. Anything you say will just muddy the water.” He looked over to Saleena. “So, on a different subject. What’s the farthest you’ve ever controlled an animal from?”

  Saleena took a few deep breaths. Once her heart slowed, she said, “I’ve gone as far as a couple thousand paces. A better crystal could probably go farther.”

  “Good. Willem, your cats like bird watching, right?”

  “They’re cats, so yes. We just caught a raven.”

  Adrian raised an eyebrow, but let the comment pass. “Keep an eye out for an eagle when we’re on the road. It’s got a crystal. If we watch where it flies, we may be able to spot the center of its range and surprise a spy.”

  Adrian picked up one of Saleena’s new saddlebags. “That’s not bad. Where do you get the leather? Do you tan it yourself?”

  Saleena nodded. “We managed to pack a couple of brine barrels, but those hides are from storage. We haven’t had to butcher any cattle yet, so Willem’s used the barrels to tan some smaller hides. Actually, several dozen smaller hides. The cats are good hunters now. It’s scary how well they do. They can sneak and use each other for distractions as a team.”

  Adrian smiled at Willem and fingered his iron collar. “So, what do you do with the rest of the meat? The cats can’t possibly eat everything they catch with that many hides.”

  Saleena stood up and would have left, but Adrian said, “Please stay. I hadn’t expected it to be such a delicate subject.”

  She pouted. How could he be so insensitive? He had to be doing it on purpose. “Some spy you are. I thought you knew everything about everyone by now. Go ahead, Willem. I don’t mind.” It was a lie to claim she didn’t mind, but she would endure the conversation anyway.

  Willem grinned. “She doesn’t like the thought of eating small critters, particularly rats and other vermin. I’m not sure why. Big critters, little critters, they’re pretty much the same inside. They’re different flavors, but not too different.” He shrugged. “I’ve fed Master Draken’s wolf all she can eat for days. She’s mostly healed now, so we’ve sent the cats out hunting with the wolf a couple of times already.”

  Adrian clapped his hands together. “That’s wonderful. Let me know if you find something big out there and I’ll assist you in catching it. We still have a crystal pair big enough to control a full-size war animal. Just don’t go too far, or our little spy friend will see you as a tempting target.”

  Saleena said, “You mean to tell me that you aren’t using the crystal from the bear yet?”

  Adrian gave her a mock look of dismay. “You injure me! Of course, it’s in use, but I would like to put it to better use if you find something good.” He looked at the cats and the raven and pursed his lips. “Maybe I should think small and sneaky instead.”

  He stood and strode into the shadows of the night. “No time for more questions. There is much to do, and many people to see before I sleep.”

  Saleena tried to track him as he crossed into the camp but lost sight of him moments later.

  She whispered under her breath, “Secretive jerk.”

  Off to the other side of the wagons came Adrian’s voice, “I heard that.”

  Gavin’s excitement fell when he saw Richland. Smoke came from only a handful of the town’s old brick chimneys. It took quite a bit of discussion across a large field before the guards believed they were not the invaders and let the front riders approach. With most of the town gone, except for a few outliers and those slow to pack, Gavin’s hopes of joining forces had come to naught, and it left him in a sour mood. He came into town with Draken and Adrian to meet with Captain Haverson who led the remains of the city guard.

  A large stone hall stood on the square in the center of town, its doors open. It combined city hall and barracks into a single structure that shared walls with its neighbors. Stone was a rarity in the plains, and the buildings on the town square were the only sign of such sturdy construction. Two guards nodded at the men escorting them. They entered and were led to a side room where the captain kept an office. It took a bit of effort and shuffling to get everyone into the small space.

  Captain Haverson stood from his heavy desk. “Please sit, Baron Stoutheart. I hope I don’t have to mention how anyone caught looting within my jurisdiction will be dealt with most harshly. We are beyond the borders of your barony, and we are not under your rule. You are a guest here.”

  Gavin sat on the offered chair, faced the Captain, and waved his hand to dismiss the worries. “Of course. If we wish to make use of anything within the town, we’ll see your people first. We would be happy for any of your remaining residents to join us as we journey to the capital. Even combining your people and mine, we don’t have enough to make a stand here. Speaking of jurisdiction, do you ha
ve a new baron?”

  Captain Haverson nodded as he seated himself. “Baron Watterson is our previous baron’s cousin. He decided to evacuate when we heard of the incoming army. I believe the messengers we received are from your group.”

  Adrian nodded. “We sent some men ahead. They’ve reported back to me.”

  Captain Haverson leaned back in his chair and pointed to a map on the wall. “The baron led them East through the hills to a refuge. Once they reach it, they should be safe.”

  Gavin drummed his fingers. “East? Adrian, what’s the latest on the army behind us? Didn’t you tell me they cut through the eastern countryside rather than follow the main road?”

  Adrian’s men had been in and out since joining the caravan, and they kept up a long-range view of the incoming army. If anyone knew where they were, it was his men.

  “Our men should have warned your baron. They may run into the invasion force before they reach the refuge. I’m expecting a new report any time on the position of the army. My latest information is a couple of days old.”

  Captain Haverson stared at the table before him before he replied. “Your men told the baron about the dangers, and how the enemy could be right in his path. Your men did their job, but Baron Watterson felt a short trip to the refuge was better than a much longer journey to the capital, even with the added danger. However his trip turns out, it’s too late for us to change anything. They’ll either make it past, or they’ll be ripped to shreds. They have a couple war animals and most of the city guard with them. The refuge has a steep entry that’s easy to defend, but the entry defenses won’t help if they’re all dead before they get there.”

  Gavin stood up as a somber mood took over his thoughts. “Every day I hope I don’t forget something that could save lives, and now every day I hear about people who die or are in danger. Some villages have it much worse than us. Those who stayed behind in Greenvale were butchered. I think we’ve learned everything we can here, and must keep moving. Let’s hope for the best and prepare for the worst.”

  Adrian interrupted before anyone could leave. “There’s one thing we’re forgetting. If they catch Baron Watterson and his people, it will speed the army up because of all the supplies they will take. We can’t spend more than one night here. We’re a tempting target. I will send messengers when my eastern scouts report to me. As for your earlier assignment to watch for a spy, I’ve seen where someone’s slept in the fields near us, but he’s good at hiding his trail, even from a hound. Assume King Ithan knows where we are and what we’re doing. That’s a lot more than we know about him.”

  Several of Captain Haverson’s men muttered curses and imprecations as they stood around the table, all aimed at the army that drove them from their homes.

  They adjourned and left the town hall. Richland was in a more settled and stable area of the plains far from the border, so it had no defensive castle as Stoutheart Barony had. Instead, shops and homes made of wood filled the streets, and the town square had plank boardwalks that ran before the large buildings, attaching their porches and entries to one another with a common path free of the mud of the street. It was a luxury they had yet to achieve in the village at Stoutheart Castle.

  The rumors among his people continued to paint Gavin as a great hero, but his own self-examination left him wanting. He wasn’t what the people said he was, and spreading those rumors wouldn’t turn him into something he wasn’t. It was both maddening and depressing as he compared himself to the flawless version people built in their imaginations.

  He cared for the people and wanted to spare them from destruction at the hands of the invaders, but his actions merely postponed the inevitable. He needed a better plan. He needed more help.

  * * *

  Gavin examined the other large buildings in the town square with their plastered and painted fronts where they flanked the town hall. Most were abandoned and boarded up. He imagined they had held guild and trade offices before being sealed. One exception was the chapel, which stood with its doors open and lamps lit, indicating a Priest of Order was in residence.

  Gavin stopped to inspect the white plastered building, the religious heart of the town. It had been months since he’d had a conversation with one of the visiting priests who came around to the remote baronies like his father’s. No, it was his barony now, not his father’s. He could use someone to talk to who might straighten out his thoughts on what he must do.

  He stepped through the door.

  His personal guard had been such a universal presence that he often forgot he was there, always in the background. Some things were better done without his ever-present armed shadow. “Jase, please wait outside. I don’t imagine this will take long.”

  “Of course, sir.” Jase took position outside the door, standing at parade rest.

  The large hall inside glowed with the flickering of lamps and candles casting their light on the polished stone walls. The oily smell of the lamps reminded Gavin of the castle back home. He walked to the front of the chapel and said, “Hello?”

  A voice came from a narrow exit to the side. “Visitors? I thought the town was nearly empty. Welcome. Welcome.” A short, muscular man dressed in a rough, gray robe entered and held his hand on his heart before extending it to Gavin for a firm handshake. “I’m Brother Cleo.”

  “I’m Gavin Stoutheart, new Baron of a land already overrun by King Ithan.”

  “Yes, we caught wind of the terrible news a few days back. My condolences on the loss of your father and brother. Well, then, I’ll correct myself. I’m Brother Cleo, sir, unless you would prefer I call you Brother Stoutheart.” His demeanor showed he was serious about the correction in addressing Gavin as was a baron’s due. Gavin didn’t respect his title enough to ask for protocol, let alone insist on it.

  Gavin sat on the end of the nearest pew. “Call me whatever you’re most comfortable with. The issue with titles and respect is part of my problem. Everyone looks to me and sees this great respectable person that only exists in their heads.”

  Brother Cleo nodded. “I see. Tell me about yourself. I’ll set aside my preconceived notions and formalities.”

  Gavin took a deep breath and let his frustrations flow out. “I’m an ordinary man, barely more than a child. I skipped out on training through elaborate schemes. I dodged responsibility at every opportunity, and now I’m faced with the job of leading people when I’m not what they believe me to be. I feel so unqualified it’s astounding they haven’t rebelled and chosen someone better suited. I’ve stepped up because I want to help, but they deserve better than me.”

  Brother Cleo nodded and prompted Gavin to continue. It reminded Gavin of his technique where he asked questions and let others fill in the details while he weighed and considered his options.

  “Most of the time I don’t know what to do. I take my best guess, and luckily the only people to die under my command so far died by not following me. It still hurts, and they’re still my people who died. As if my lack of skills wasn’t bad enough, I’ve granted immunity to anyone who has experience using crystals and handed them out to anyone who can help. I’m using the people who violated the law and forged their own crystals as trainers and leaders. Everyone appeals to me as the ultimate authority, but I’m not. I’ll have to go before our king, once we have one, and answer for my people, and for the things I’ve allowed. I’ve even violated some of the Accords of the Crystal Kings, all to keep the people alive and away from the army on our tail. Can you tell me where I’m going wrong, and what I need to do?”

  Brother Cleo’s face registered brief shock before he recovered with a genuine smile. “No, I can’t tell you how to survive your trials. I’m sorry, but I’ve found telling people what to do rarely helps. Sometimes I preach, but mostly I tell stories. I’m afraid the best advice you’ll get out of me is to learn why you do things, rather than to be told what to do. You will answer your questions for yourself once you are ready.

  “I can tell the men and women t
o be good to their spouses, to be honest, and to do all the other things people should do. All those instructions are meaningless until someone wants to hear them. Until then I tell stories. When people are ready to understand the messages, they use those stories to tell themselves what they need to know, and why it’s important. Like my regular visitors, you are responsible for your own choices and their consequences, even though you are influenced by your advisers and councilors. If they’re good men, you’ll get good advice, and it will help you to make good choices.”

  “About that. My current council includes a young woman barely old enough to marry, who was one of the first I had to pardon for violating two of the Accords. I’ve got a supposedly reformed criminal whom our dead king and my father forced to wear the animal side of a crystal set. I violated the third Accord right there, but I destroyed that master crystal once I knew what was going on. He’s my source of intelligence. I’ve entrusted my supply chain management to a woman who owned an inn and tap house, and I’ve assigned a cattle herder as Travel Master to motivate the people to move forward each day. That’s a good portion of my council.”

  Brother Cleo barely suppressed his laughter. “It seems to me you have no problem at all in deciding what to do. You’ve racked up quite a list of changes few are brave enough to make.”

  Brave enough? Gavin had never considered himself brave. “But that’s not even the biggest issue. I want them to be safe and taken care of, and here we are running before an army that gains on us daily and destroys anything in its path. The people would be better off with an experienced baron who knows what they’re doing, but it’s my job. I’m doing my best, but I’m afraid my best is not enough to save them.”

  Brother Cleo’s mirth became somber as he nodded. “So, it all seems to come down to why. It always does. A father asked his son, as he did every morning and evening, to milk the cows. There was snow on the ground, and the boy didn’t want to get up. One morning, he gathered his courage and asked why he must milk the cows. The father, being the patient sort, explained how the cows must be milked or they would first become miserable, and then would stop giving milk. Not content with the answer, the boy asked not why the job had to be done, but why he was the one who had to do it. The patient father explained further how the boy was not yet big enough for the work the father did all day. The boy’s mother was also busy with her workload of midwifery, spinning, weaving, cooking, and caring for the boy’s little sister. The father, rather than force the boy from bed, gave him these parting words as he left to perform his labors. ‘If not you, then who?’”