King Harowin of Ertak was outraged. He shouted at anyone who came within the sound of his voice, and he struck anyone foolish enough to come within his reach. When General Harford entered the room, he stood in the doorway and surveyed the devastation. Chairs were overturned and banners were ripped from the walls. Shards of pottery littered the floor and wall paintings were slashed. The king stood near his throne, a long sword in his hand. The general wanted to sneak out of the room before he was seen, but it was already too late. The king had seen him.
“What have you discovered, Harford?” shouted the king. “Has the culprit been caught? Where is he?”
The general glanced around the room again to see who was within listening range. The few servants present in the room were all cowering in the corners.
“I have need to speak with you in private,” the general replied. “May we retire to your study?”
The king raised his sword threateningly and his mouth opened wide to shout an answer, but his energy was spent. He dropped the sword on the floor and nodded. Without a word, the king turned and left the room. General Harford quickly followed the king and the two men entered the king’s study. The general closed the door.
“What more bad news do you bring, Harford?” the king scowled as he walked around his desk and sat down.
“The duke’s boy will survive,” replied the general, “but he may lose his arm. The story he tells is frightening, and we need to discuss it before it spreads.”
“Out with it then,” snapped the king.
“The boy said that the soldier who killed your sons wore the patch of the 16th Corps.”
“The 16th?” gasped the king. “Is he sure?”
“He says that he is certain,” answered the general, “but the boy is not in his right mind. I don’t know that we should take his word as truth, and I can’t imagine how a Spinoan could have gotten into the palace, never mind out of it again. It makes no sense.”
The king rose suddenly from his chair and the general flinched, but he need not have bothered. The king began pacing the floor behind his desk, his mind considering the implications of the Spinoans sending someone to assassinate his sons. Eventually he stopped pacing and turned to face the general.
“Queen Samir is a despicable tyrant who would not hesitate to assassinate someone, but she gains nothing from killing Lyker and Lindmyr. Who came into the palace today, and who left?”
“Mostly the usual people,” answered the general, “but there was one strange group. Captain Ergard and a squad of men from the 15th Corps arrived for supplies. They produced an authorization from General Montero to get supplies from the kitchens.”
“Now we are onto something,” snarled the king. “This is something that Montero would do.”
“But they were only here for a few minutes,” frowned the general. “They got their supplies and left. The guard in the kitchens watched them the entire time.”
“Did he?” challenged the king. “Then he will be able to tell us how the kitchen maid happened to end up slain in the same room with my sons. I was wondering what she was doing there, but now it makes sense. How else could an unauthorized soldier gain access to that wing of the palace if not through the servants’ ways? That girl led the assassin to my sons. I want that guard properly interrogated.”
“I will see to it,” promised the general.
The general turned to leave, but the king was not finished with him. “I also want every member of the 15th Corps arrested.”
The general turned and looked questioningly at the king. “There is an entire company of the 15th Corp in Ertak. You do realize that General Montero left them to safeguard Prince Harold?”
“Safeguard?” scoffed the king. “Is that what you call imprisonment these days?”
“Call it what you will,” frowned the general, “but you are talking about a civil war. Ergard’s company inhabits Montero’s castle in the Dark Forest, and they will not surrender without a fight. I suspect that they are tasked to defend that castle to the death.”
“Then they will die,” King Harowin replied without concern.
“It is never that easy, Your Highness. General Montero has a strong following in all of the Ertakan armies, including my own 11th Corps. If it comes to a battle to take that castle, there will be heavy losses on both sides. Plus,” he added with an ominous tone, “that will leave General Larus and his 34th Corps in charge of security in Farmin while my men are out in the Dark Forest. Are you sure that is wise?”
“Blast Jaar,” snapped the king. “Have you discovered the reason for Kyrga posting the 34th Corps in Farmin?”
“I have not,” frowned the general, “but it is not just Farmin. Valdo and Giza also have new armies posted to them, and each of the generals is sworn to Kyrga. I have a bad feeling about their purpose. What if Montero is not behind the assassination at all? What if it is Emperor Jaar trying to foment a civil war to weaken our home guard? We would be playing right into his hand if we attacked the castle.”
The king thought for a moment and then shook his head. “The assassinations have Montero’s mark all over them. This is typical of what he would do.”
“For what purpose?” asked General Harford. “Montero is already the Crown Prince. He gains nothing from the deaths of your other sons.”
“He gains security,” retorted the king. “With Lyker and Lindmyr dead, I cannot afford to lose Montero, or Ertak would have no heir.” The king’s eyes widened as if he had just seen something remarkable. “Harold! Montero no longer holds Harold in that castle of his. Either Harold is dead, or he has escaped. That is why Montero made his move. He no longer has a hold over me.”
“That does make sense,” agreed the general, “but I still advise against attacking the castle.”
“Forget the castle,” stated the king. “Arrest Captain Ergard and his squad of men before they reach the safety of the castle. Given the proper incentive, those men will tell us what we need to know.”
* * * *
Jenneva stood at the gates to the Everich estate while Alex refastened the wheel onto the mortician’s wagon. Darkness had claimed the sky, but not before Jenneva had managed to get a good look at the estate. The great building that had once housed the King’s Advisor no longer existed. In its place a field of debris was scattered across the ground. There was no sign of life, but she knew from Alex’s attitude that she was missing something. She waited patiently for him to finish. A soft whistle caused her to turn around. Alex waved her to the wagon and then hopped up onto the seat. Jenneva turned away from the destruction and mounted the wagon.
“You owe me an explanation,” she said simply.
“I do.” Alex nodded. “Duke Everich’s estate had a very unique feature about it. Of the people assembled tonight, only Arik and I knew about it, and Balamor and Theos kept the king’s mind shielded, so there was no chance of Artimor learning the secret as long as we did not tell anyone else.”
“What feature?” asked Jenneva.
“An access hatch to the city sewers,” grinned Alex. “It was one of the reasons that Everich bought the estate. It allowed him secret access to his minions of the underworld. The day that you and Tanya were struck down during the Battle of Tagaret, Arik and I used the sewers to sneak onto this estate and destroy the nest of black-devils hiding here. That led to the plan used tonight. As soon as everyone entered the front door of the mansion, Arik led them out the back and into the sewers. That is why the timing of our arrival was so critical. We only needed a few moments of distraction to give the king time to make good his escape.”
“Are you sure that they did escape?” frowned Jenneva.
“I am certain,” smiled Alex. “I timed it myself this afternoon, and Arik knew the numbers well before we left the palace. Let’s get back there and inform them of Artimor’s death.”
“And then what?” asked Jenneva.
“The king will make a speech to the citizens in the morning. He will explain about the demonkin and the tainted boots. The people will be told to destroy any boots bought from Artimor or repaired by him. The irritability and sickness will simply disappear.”
“So I am free to join you in battle up north?” asked Jenneva.
“You are. In fact, the others will be coming with us.”
“The others?”
“Arik, Tanya, and Theos,” stated Alex. “I am not sure about Balamor.”
“The king and queen are going into battle? Is that wise?”
“They must,” nodded Alex. “Although getting rid of the boots will cure the sickness, it will not happen overnight, and the soldiers cannot march without boots. The army will be of no help against Team Miram, and the Rangers and Red Swords cannot handle the enemy alone. Besides, they are still the Warrior King and Warrior Queen. They will be fine.”
Jenneva sighed anxiously. It was not that she doubted the skills of Arik and Tanya, but things grew chaotic during a battle. She knew that anything could happen.
* * * *
The gypsies crept through the tall grass as silently as myrics. When they reached the bank of the river, Adan rose slightly and glanced around. He saw no one. Sticking a finger in his pocket, the King of the Gypsies woke his fairy. Instantly a chubby male fairy shot out of the pocket and landed on the gypsy’s shoulder.
“Take a look around, Moth,” ordered Adan. “Let me know if any of the Federation soldiers are within hearing distance. We are going to make a fair amount of noise tonight.”
Moth waddled to the end of Adan’s shoulder and threw himself off. His wings beat furiously, and for a moment it appeared as if he would fall to the ground. He did not. Moth’s strong wings soon propelled him upward at a furious pace and the chubby fairy disappeared into the night sky.
“I guess Prince Midge has run out of able recruits,” frowned Kyle. “Moth should not be used in the field.”
“What are you talking about?” quipped Laman. “Moth is a great fairy. He is easily worth one and a half of any other fairy.”
“Knock it off,” Adan said to the men from Lavinda. “Moth is already rather self-conscious about his weight. The other fairies rib him mercilessly. We do not need to add to his misery.”
“But can he function?” countered Kyle. “I did not speak to hurt his feelings. I am truly concerned about his ability to do the task and remain unseen. He is rather large.”
“Moth has performed admirably,” answered Adan. “He has never failed an assignment, and I do not expect that to change tonight.”
Several minutes passed in silence before Moth returned. He glided down out of the sky and landed on Adan’s shoulder with a thud.
“The Federation soldiers are nowhere near the bridges,” the fairy reported. “They are all within their camp.”
Adan raised an eyebrow at the report.
“You seem concerned,” Kyle said suspiciously.
“No,” Adan shook his head. “It is just unexpected. I thought once they discovered that there was no way to go north that they might post sentries by the bridges to secure them. It is their only way out of the swamp.”
“Let’s remove the bridges before they discover their mistake,” suggested Laman.
Adan nodded as he rose to his feet and signaled his men to advance. Laman and Kyle moved towards the bridges to supervise their removal, but Adan remained in the grass. He turned his head and looked at the fairy.
“You did well, Moth,” Adan said with a smile. “Now I need to send you on a more dangerous mission.”
“No danger is too great for the fairy people,” Moth replied. “How may I serve the King of the Gypsies?”
“I need to get word to Mandel and Hortice,” explained Adan. “They and their men are hidden in the swamp near the Federation camp. They will be difficult to find, even for a fairy.”
“Fairies can find anyone,” boasted Moth.
“I do believe that to be true,” Adan said with a smile, “but you should know by now that gypsies can hide rather well. You will need to stay close to the surface of the swamp to find them, and great dangers exist at that level, especially for creatures as small as yourself.”
Moth shuddered at the thought of being eaten by one of the giant reptiles, but he replied with courage, “I will deliver your message. What shall I say to them?”
“Tell them that the bridges are being removed,” instructed Adan. “They are now authorized to begin their portion of this mission. You are to stay with them until they are done, Moth, just in case they need to send a message back. Find a safe place to wait and let Mandel and Hortice know where you will be. Above all, do not let the Federation see you.”
“You can count on me,” the fairy said reassuringly. “Fairies are never seen unless they want to be seen.”
Adan chuckled as Moth rose in the sky. He felt for the chubby fairy, and his thoughts turned to Caroom. Caroom had been a giant of a gypsy, and his size had made him a bit of an outcast. Adan often wondered how much of an impact those hurt feelings had in the play of events. In the end, Caroom had turned against the gypsy people, and he had died for that betrayal, but Adan wondered if the gypsy people had made it easy for the giant to turn against his own people by making him feel as if he was not one of them. Adan shook his head as if to clear it of such thoughts and walked towards the bridges to watch them being dismantled.
Moth soared high over the swamp, but he approached the Federation camp with the night sky in mind. Being careful not to get between the enemy and the moon, the fairy gazed down at the inhospitable terrain. He could see no gypsies in the swamp, and he suddenly remembered Adan’s instructions to fly low. Banking into a steep dive, the fairy shot downward with great speed. The tall grass rose towards him at a dizzying pace. He flared his wings out wide to slow his descent, but it was too little, too late. The tall blades of stiff grass whipped his body as he plowed through them, and he tumbled to the ground.
Moth pushed himself off the ground, the muck of the swamp sticking to his hands and oozing over his feet. He looked around, but he could not see a single pace in any direction. The grass was thick and tall, and he was stuck in the middle of it. He started tromping through the maze, but he had only gone a little ways when the noises around him caused him to halt in fear. He heard something large slithering through the grass to one side of him, and something very large soared directly overhead, its wings momentarily blotting out the moonlight. Moth shuddered with fear.
The fairy hesitantly turned towards the slithering noise, his eyes as large as buttons. Frozen with fear, he listened to the sound coming closer. Suddenly he saw the grass stalks moving and then he heard the hiss. A giant snake lifted its head up and sniffed the air, its forked tongue darting in and out of its mouth. Moth panicked. He screamed and ran, his tiny feet sloshing through the muck. The snake must have sensed its prey for it darted towards the fleeing fairy. Moth bounced off stalk after stalk as he hysterically raced for his life, the sounds of the slithering snake gaining on him with every step.
Eventually, Moth ran out of the patch of grass. He broke out into the open to find himself on the edge of a body of water. He flapped his wings furiously, but he was too exhausted to propel himself off the ground. He just could not get off the ground. Tears came to his eyes as he turned around and watched the giant snake approaching. The slithering beast halted as its tongue detected the fairy. It raised its head and lunged at Moth. The fairy closed his eyes and whimpered. The fairy trembled as he waited for the strike that would end his life, but it never came. Moth opened his eyes and saw the head of the snake mere inches from him, and then it was gone, flung off to some distant place by a large hand.
“You shouldn’t play in the swamp, Moth,” said the voice. “It is a very dangerous place, especially for fairies.”
Moth frowned in confusion. He turned and saw an arm sticking out of the water, a human arm. He turned further and stared into the mud-covered face of Mandel. The gypsy was submerged in the water of the swamp, only his head and arm were above the surface.
“You saved my life,” Moth said with awe and reverence. “I thought I was going to die.”
“You just might have,” Mandel said compassionately. “It happens to the best of us, but you are alive now. Rejoice and be thankful. What are you doing out here?”
Moth tried to stop his body from shivering, but he could not. He blushed with embarrassment, knowing that the gypsy had witnessed him cowering in fear. He was ashamed.
“Adan sent me to deliver a message to you and Hortice. The bridges are being removed and you are authorized to start your part of the mission.”
“Excellent,” smiled the gypsy. “I will inform Hortice and the others. Do you need help getting aloft?”
Moth broke down and cried. His head grew light and his limbs trembled so badly that he could not stand. He dropped into a sitting position and let the tears flow freely.
“I meant no slight by my words,” Mandel said softly. “You have been through a trying ordeal. Even a gypsy would appreciate some help under those conditions.”
“A gypsy would not cower in fear,” mumbled Moth. “I am fat, and I am useless. And now I am a coward. You should have let the snake eat me.”
“As long as you are assigned to Adan,” Mandel said caringly, “you are a gypsy, Moth.” Mandel reached out and cupped the fairy with his hand, holding him securely. “I have known fear in my life, and I know what it does to a man. You have no need to be embarrassed. You trying to fight off that snake would be the same as me trying to fend off a dragon. There would be no option but to run for either of us. Calm yourself and then I will give you a boost to get you flying.”
Moth shook his head. “Adan wants me to stay with you, in case you have need to send a message back.”
“And you are willing to stay in the swamp?”
“It is my duty,” answered the fairy. “I have no choice.”
“We always have a choice, Moth.”
“I will not abandon my duty,” declared the fairy.
“Then you are far braver than you think,” smiled Mandel. “Every man knows fear at one time or another. That is nothing to be ashamed of, but it takes true courage to stand firm in the face of fear. Let’s find a reasonably safe perch for you while Hortice and I teach the Federation a lesson.”
The gypsy moved silently through the water. First he joined up with Hortice and passed along Adan’s message. He then found a small tree for Moth and placed him on a branch as high as he could reach.
“If the light is good,” Mandel said in parting, “you will have a good view of the action. If you need to, you can glide off your perch to any one of us. Stay dry, my friend.”
Mandel sunk back into the swamp and moved off towards the enemy encampment, which was well lit with roaring campfires. When he drew close to their perimeter, he met up again with Hortice and the others.
“The black-cloaks have split up,” stated Hortice. “There are four of them to the right and four to the left.”
“I will take the left,” stated Mandel. “Take half the men and focus on the mages to the right. It is early yet, so they will not be anxious to confine themselves to the tents. They will probably try to keep near the fires so that the stinging flies and mosquitoes don’t eat them alive. Try to kill them when they wander off to relieve themselves, or anytime that you can get one of them alone. When you have killed them all, return to Moth’s tree.”
Hortice nodded and selected three men to join him. Mandel led the other three men to the left. The grassy island where the Federation armies were camped was relatively dry ground, but watery channels ran through it in all directions. Sometimes the channels were so narrow that you could step over them, but other times they were wide enough to force you to go around them. Almost all of the channels were fairly deep, even the narrow ones. The setup was ideal for the gypsy mission, and Mandel’s men soon split up to cover as much of the left portion of the encampment as possible. As was Mandel’s nature, he took the most precarious section for himself, never willing to order a man to do something that he would not do himself.
Mandel was a patient warrior, which was necessary this evening. It took nearly three hours before he finally managed to get near a black-cloak relieving himself. The mage broke away from a group of soldiers near one of the big fires, and the soldiers were glad to see him leave. Mandel anticipated the mage’s path and slowly moved through one of the channels to get close. He eased a reed and a myric quill out of his small quiver and fed the quill into the reed. As the gypsy got into position, he spooked one of the large carnivorous reptiles that had been resting in a dark spot on the mud bank. The large creature slithered off the mud and disappeared under the water. Mandel tried not to think about it. He had run into the creatures several times already, and so far they had not tried to attack him. He hoped his luck endured through the night.
Moments later, the black-cloak appeared on the bank of the channel. Mandel wasted no time. He brought the reed to his lips and blew the quill into the mage’s stomach. The mage’s body stiffened and fell forward, loudly splashing into the water, directly onto the giant reptile that had moved away from the gypsy. The creature immediately attacked the mage’s body, thrashing violently as its massive jaws clamped down on the black-cloak’s leg. The beast shook the body noisily and then dragged it under the water, but not before some soldiers had taken notice of the event. Mandel smiled as he put the reed to his lips and slid under the water before the running soldiers arrived to gawk at the black-cloak’s demise.
Hours later, Mandel and his men met up with Hortice below the tree where Moth was perched. The eight gypsies were waterlogged and tired.
“We have failed,” sighed Hortice.
“Seven out of eight is not exactly a failure,” replied Mandel, “but neither is it a success. Perhaps the last black-cloak will come out of his tent early in the morning.”
“Why don’t we go in the tent and finish this?” asked Hortice.
“Because we have been forbidden to do so,” answered Mandel. “Were it up to me, that is exactly what I would do, but Adan has made it clear that the gypsies will not enter the mage’s tents.”
“One battle mage can kill hundreds of our people,” protested Hortice. “They must all die for this trap to work.”
“You will get no argument from me,” Mandel agreed, “but we will follow our orders. If the last mage does not give us the opportunity we need by dawn, you will take the rest of the men back to dry ground.”
“And you will do what?” frowned Hortice. “You will attack him in broad daylight on the trail tomorrow? That is suicide.”
“I am not happy about our choices,” frowned Mandel, “but I understand what must be done. The last black-cloak will die before he gets back to where the bridges were. I will not allow him to kill our people.”
“I am not forbidden from entering the tent,” chirped Moth.
The gypsies glanced up at the chubby fairy.
“We need to do more than just put him asleep,” stated Hortice.
“And you cannot levitate him out of the tent without getting caught,” added Mandel.
“I will stab him with a quill,” Moth said with determination.
One of the gypsies laughed and Mandel shot the man a glare. The laugh died instantly.
“You carrying a quill would be like one of us holding a tree out before us,” said Hortice. “Even if you could carry it, a fairy would never have enough force to stab it into the mage’s body.”
“I can do it,” declared the fairy. “Will you sacrifice your people because you do not believe me?”
“You do not have to do this to impress us, Moth,” Mandel said softly. “We are already impressed with the fairy people.”
“You said earlier that we always have choices, Mandel,” retorted the fairy. “I am making this choice because I believe that I will be successful where others cannot be, not to impress you. Will you deny me my chance to strike out at evil?”
Mandel stared at the little man, and he liked what he saw. He smiled and nodded. “I will give you whatever chance you want, Moth, but I expect you to act with clear thought and without emotion. Can you promise me that?”
“I can and I do,” the fairy said with confidence. “Ready me a quill. I will be right back.”
Moth took a running leap off the branch. His body dropped towards the ground, but his wings soon provided the lift he needed. He soared skyward and headed for the Federation encampment. The mage tent was not hard to find, and he flew right into it. For a moment, he hovered in the dark staring at the empty bunks. When he found the bunk that was occupied, he noted its location and retreated outside. He flew up and landed on the roof of the tent and visualized where the occupied bunk was below. He then found the nearest seam and pulled his knife. It took him several minutes to cut through the stitching with his knife, but when he was done, the section of the roof over the sleeping black-cloak hung down into the tent. Moth sheathed his knife and threw himself off the roof. Minutes later he landed on the tree branch above the gypsies.
“Hand me a quill,” ordered the fairy.
Mandel extracted a quill and held it out for the fairy to grasp. Moth grabbed it with both hands and held it above his head. His little face frowned as he tried to figure out how to launch himself.
“Would you like a boost?” asked Mandel.
“Yes,” the fairy nodded enthusiastically.
Mandel held out his palm and let Moth walk onto it. When the fairy signaled that he was ready, Mandel tossed the fairy high into the air. Moth’s wings beat frantically, but the boost had worked well. Before Moth reached the apex of the toss, his wings were already carrying him higher. He continued high into the sky before turning and heading towards the camp. When he was over the opening in the mage tent, he tilted the quill and let its weight pull him into a dive. Moth dove with a speed he had never achieved before, the extra weight propelling him downward at a frantic pace. He soared through the hole in the roof and the quill slammed into the mage. The force of the collision tossed the fairy roughly to the floor, but Moth stood up and dusted himself off, a wide grin spreading across his face.