A Crown Imperilled. Raymond E. Feist

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СКАЧАТЬ north-west; and a small road led east, which rapidly turned into a farmer’s track. Here lay the heart of Ylith’s commerce, the busy port that was the gateway to Yabon.

      The city of Ylith had been seized by invaders once before, when the general leading the invading army of the Emerald Queen had set himself up as King of the Bitter Sea. Only a betrayal by one of his southern commanders in exchange for consideration from the Kingdom had allowed the tyrant to be dislodged. Martin had read the history of the Emerald Queen’s invasion and knew the vital part played by this city in protecting the principality, Yabon, and the passes to the Far Coast. The Kingdom might lose Crydee and recover, or even lose control of the eastern shore of the Bitter Sea between Ylith and Sarth, but if Ylith fell, all would be lost.

      ‘What news from the south?’ asked Brendan.

      ‘It’s bad,’ said Martin, handing over the message.

      Brendan quickly read it. ‘Is he serious?’

      ‘Apparently.’ Martin threw the parchment into the dust and looked around. ‘If I were in his place I would not wish to explain to my duke where his infantry was, if he was expecting them to arrive in Sarth next week.’

      ‘Would you rather explain how you lost all of Yabon?’ countered Brendan.

      ‘Just following orders,’ said Martin dryly. ‘Well, the pirate we hired should have delivered my message to the Duke by the time the infantry reaches Sarth.’ He calculated. ‘If the Prince hasn’t commanded him to continue on to Krondor or stay in Sarth, he could be back here with his cavalry and light foot regiment in ten days.’

      ‘Lots of ifs,’ said Brendan.

      ‘I know,’ answered Martin. ‘Where are we now?’

      His brother knew exactly what Martin was asking. ‘Our men at arms number three hundred from Crydee, plus the fifty irregulars the Duke of Yabon left here with Bolton.’ Captain Bolton was the nephew of the commander of the Earl of LaMut’s guard. The brothers were convinced that he had been left behind in the hope that no attack would ever reach this far north. Once he had been taken down a peg or two by Martin, the earnest young man had turned out to be completely out of his depth, which was the reason for all his bluster when they first met.

      Brendan continued, ‘About two hundred men and boys have trickled in since you sent word north, but they’re the ones who were too unfit to answer the Duke of Yabon’s first muster: mostly old men, a few former soldiers, and eager boys, for the main part under fifteen years old. And too few damn weapons.’

      ‘Well, set them to making arrows. They’ll be slow at it at first, but if there are enough hands put to the task we should do well. I’d rather the archers had too many than too few.’

      ‘Wood is no problem, and the smiths here can do the broadheads, but we’re going to have a problem with the flights: not enough feathers.’

      ‘Use chicken feathers if you have to. Set snares for pigeons and seagulls,’ snapped Martin. ‘I don’t care.’ Then he closed his eyes and said, ‘Sorry. I’m …’

      Brendan put his hand on his brother’s arm. ‘I know.’ He indicated with a nod of his head that the scout was still standing nearby.

      Martin dismissed the man with thanks and ordered the gates of the city sealed. He looked towards the heart of the town and said, ‘How are the provisions?’

      ‘Enough,’ said Brendan as they started walking back to the mayor’s house, which was being used for local headquarters. ‘With most of the fighting men down south, the local farms can provide enough for a siege, as long as we keep the north gate and road clear.’ The old baron’s castle on the hill to the north-west of the city was far enough away. Martin had done little more than give it a quick inspection, but it would serve as a last resort for defence if the entire town fell to the Keshians. It was his purpose to see that didn’t happen, for even if they held the keep above the town, Kesh would have achieved their purpose: bisecting the Western Realm. If that happened, no aid could flow in either direction. Not only would this region be lost, the entire Western Realm would be left vulnerable.

      Martin glanced around as if seeking inspiration. His home of Crydee was already crawling with colonists from the far south of the Empire, the region known as the Keshian Confederacy, and they were aggressively driving out whoever occupied the farms and mills, mines and lumbering villages. Herds had been seized, as had anything else of value, and a steady stream of displaced Kingdom citizens entered Ylith on a daily basis.

      ‘You look lost in thought,’ observed Brendan.

      Martin smiled slightly at his younger brother. ‘Just trying to imagine what I’d be doing next if I were the Keshian commander in Crydee.’

      Brendan shrugged. ‘It would depend on what his orders are, right?’

      Martin nodded. ‘We’ve not seen any Keshian ships this far north. Queg must be keeping them busy to the south.’

      Brendan knew his brother meant that Queg was keeping Kesh from sailing west of their island kingdom. While no formal treaty existed between Queg and the Kingdom, they were effectively allied against Kesh’s northward expansion in the Bitter Sea. The part of the Kingdom fleet that wasn’t stationed down in Port Vykor and Krondor would be hugging the coast of the Principality, freeing Queg from the need to protect their eastern coast. ‘Even if they bottled up all of the Prince’s fleet at Krondor, some Kingdom ships had to sortie out of Port Vykor and would have been out on the water when this war started. Most likely, there’s a line of ships between Vykor and Sarth, enough to hold the Keshians in check.’

      Martin nodded. ‘Which means Kesh is not reinforcing her armies by sea.’

      ‘So, the only large force they have in the region is the one that drove us out of Crydee,’ finished Brendan.

      Martin squatted. ‘Let’s assume for the moment that whatever ships Kesh have are down south supporting the land assaults against Land’s End, Vykor and Krondor. So how does that leave us here in the north?’ He pulled out his belt knife and drew a half-circle in the earth. ‘We’re here,’ he said, sticking his blade point into the ground. He motioned towards what would be the west on his makeshift map. ‘If they bring those forces here, we can face them along one or two walls at most, without support, and not worry about the rest of our defences.’ He motioned to the south of the harbour gate. ‘Out there is a natural choke point between the docks and gate.’ He stood up. ‘Unless they mean to swim across from the western shore then attack up the road …’ His expression changed and he motioned for Brendan to follow him as he hurried over to the steps leading up to the ramparts.

      At the top of the wall he could see the handful of men stationed along the battlement, all trying to appear keen and ready, but really just hiding their boredom. Martin knew the tedium of the watch only too well as he and his brothers had served more than their share; their father had ensured that his three sons understood every aspect of the soldier’s trade. There was an old soldier’s saying: War is protracted periods of boredom punctuated by short bursts of violence and terror; and so far, Martin had found that to be entirely true.

      Scanning the docks below the wall and the foulborough between the city walls and the docks, he said, ‘How would you attack this city?’

      Brendan moved to one of the crenels and leaned out slightly, his hands resting on the merlons to either side. He said, ‘I’d not wish to.’

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