The Chaoswar Saga: A Kingdom Besieged, A Crown Imperilled, Magician’s End. Raymond E. Feist

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СКАЧАТЬ family. His great-great-grandfather for whom he had been named was brother to the King, and he and his son Marcus were both princes of the Kingdom in rank by birth, but Marcus had never chosen to employ the title, nor had his son the first Duke Henry, or Martin’s father, the second Duke Henry. Hal would be the third Duke Henry but the present king was a very distant cousin at best and the only thing that distinguished Martin, his brothers, and their father from a score of other distant cousins to the King was that they were conDoins. The first Martin had been born a bastard, but recognized and named by his father before his death, therefore he was of royal blood.

      Martin shook his head. He must be suffering from fatigue to let his mind wander so.

      The day dragged on and the pounding of the gate continued through the night. As the false dawn approached in the east, Martin hurried out and got as close to the gate as was safe to see how the Keshians were doing. As he stood at the entrance to the keep a soldier came to stand beside him: a thin, rangy fellow named Means, recently promoted to sergeant from corporal.

      ‘Where’s Ruther?’ asked Martin.

      ‘Oh, finally got him to get some sleep, sir. I can fetch him if you need.’

      ‘No, let him sleep.’ Another stone crashed into the gate with a resounding thud, and Martin heard a splintering sound and saw the timbers reinforcing the gate shudder. ‘What do you think?’

      ‘Not my job, sir,’ said Means.

      ‘A born sergeant,’ Martin laughed.

      ‘If you mean when do I think the gate will give out, then two days, maybe less. We’d better be ready to fight any time after sun-up tomorrow.’

      Martin nodded. Half the stone surrounding the gates was shattered and cracked, the tops of the walls on both sides sheered to rubble. Men could not stand and fight within half a dozen yards of the gate on either side, for there was no sheltered footing left. Should the Keshians bring a fire ram against the wooden gates, the defenders would be exposed if they tried to douse it and the Keshian archers would have easy targets.

      He said to Means, ‘My mother and the other ladies mean to take the sick from the keep through the escape tunnels. I need Ruther here with me, but I also need an experienced soldier to look after them. I’m putting you in charge of that detail.’ He glanced around. ‘We don’t have much left for a stand-up fight, do we?’

      ‘Oh, they’re a good lot. Your father left a few grizzled veterans mixed in with the boys. And a few of the townsmen are fairly scrappy brawlers – I know that from my drinking days.’

      ‘Don’t drink any more?’

      ‘Not to speak of,’ said Means. ‘My father couldn’t abide a man who couldn’t hold his drink. For years I took that to mean I needed to go drink to drink with all the lads and somehow not turn into the horse’s ass I usually became. Would have had these stripes years ago if I hadn’t been that man. So I learned that to hold their drink, some men just need not to drink that first ale. Haven’t had a drink in five years.’ Then he grinned. ‘Still doesn’t mean I haven’t busted a few heads down at the dock taverns in my day.’ He shook his head. ‘No, these lads will give the Keshians as good as they get, maybe a bit more. This is their home, sir. This keep will be here when your father reaches us, Commander. I’m certain of that.’

      ‘I hope you’re right, Sergeant.’

      Martin went back into the keep and began his routine for the day. He would conduct a personal inventory of stores, ensuring there was ample food for everyone, then he’d walk each post to see how the men were, then take his place on the top of the keep to watch to see if the Keshians were doing anything different. Then he would wait.

      ‘Fire wagon!’ came the shout from the top of the keep and it was relayed down the stairs into the great hall. Martin had just bid his mother and the other ladies farewell before they began their journey to Elvandar. Those too sick to walk were being carried in litters and by best guess it would take a week for the party to reach the River Boundary and the elves. Martin was loath to see them leave in this condition, but he knew a garrison in the grip of even a relatively minor illness would give the Keshians one more advantage he didn’t wish to give them.

      Sergeant Ruther hurried in. ‘The Keshians have launched a fire wagon at the gate, sir. They mean to be inside sooner rather than later, it seems.’

      Martin nodded, and turned to Sergeant Means. ‘Get them out safely,’ he said. The escape tunnel led out of the lower basement beneath the kitchen pantry. Those leaving had queued up before dawn and now they were almost through.

      Martin ran outside and up to a position on the wall where he could best see through the smoke at the gate. The Keshian fire wagon had been made by filling a wagon with oil-soaked wood and on top of that tightly-bundled straw. Half a dozen men ran behind it, steering as best they could with a reversed wagon-tongue. It was like steering a boat, pulling the tiller in the opposite direction to the one you wished to go in, and the Keshians made a botch of it.

      The wagon had crashed into the right side of the gate, opposite where Martin stood. The fire was burning hotly, but mostly against stone. The wood of the gate on that side was smouldering and smoking, but had not yet burst into flames. Crydee soldiers quickly set about throwing buckets of water on the inside of the gate opposite the fire, to help dissipate the heat and keep the wood from burning through. Ruther came to stand beside Martin.

      ‘What do you think?’

      ‘It’ll weaken it a bit, but unless they’re mad enough to start sending men with oilskins to try and spread the flames to the gate, it’ll hold for a while longer.’

      ‘Do you think they’ll bring a ram after it’s weakened?’

      ‘No. They’ll not risk it getting tangled up in all that mess, especially with flame and embers all around. I’d have the lads dumping oil on them in a moment if they were foolish enough to try that, and they know it.

      ‘No, they’ll wait until the flames are out and toss a few more stones to see how much damage they’ve caused, then they might send another fire wagon, and I’ll bet the second time they’ll get it right, spot on in the middle.’

      Martin could only nod in agreement. He let out an exhausted sigh and wondered where his father was at that moment.

      Henry, Duke of Crydee, slashed down at the goblin trying to unhorse him. The creature’s green-blue face was contorted in a snarl, long fangs bared as it struck upwards at the Duke. Brendan came from behind the goblin and struck it across the base of the neck, below the chain where its skin was exposed and it collapsed.

      As bad fortune would have it, they had ridden straight into a goblin raiding party moving through the Green Heart in strength. It was Henry’s two hundred riders against thirty goblins on foot.

      They made short work of the goblins, most of whom had turned and fled into the deep woods as soon as they realized they hadn’t encountered a small garrison patrol out of Jonril. Goblin raiding parties could be very dangerous for caravans and small patrols, but a full company of heavy cavalry was more than they had bargained for.

      Henry turned his mount in a half-circle. ‘Report!’ he commanded his First Sergeant, Magwin.

      ‘One dead, two wounded, my lord.’

      ‘Damn,’ said the Duke. He was nearly frantic with worry for his wife and son. ‘I should have СКАЧАТЬ