The Shining Orb Series

Her baby kicked, and Lady Marla Mae squealed in excitement. “How wonderful,” Marla clapped her hands. “I remember when I was pregnant with my little soldiers. The number of kicks and turns was enough to shake a house.” Yvanne smiled as the lady placed a hand on her bare stomach again. “Oh, did I tell you how I almost didn’t survive the pregnancy? Three boys and the gods seem ready to take you, but my husband and the doma prayed and prayed and here I am today. Just as lucky to be alive now as I was then.”

Yvanne clasped Marla’s hand. Just what I want to hear about while pregnant. The chance of dying. “I’m glad we found you and rescued you. Whitefork is important to the Lands of Asara just as much as any other town or village.”

Lord Roul Straiver had attacked and looted Whitefork with the combined forces of the Byway and Goldfield. Lord Oda Mae, his wife, and closest advisers were all imprisoned. Yvanne led the great host of men that had gathered in Whitehall and marched through the Duke’s Pass, destroying any semblance of power Ultiir had in the region. The forces of the Byway were stopped at the Yellow Tower, Lord Tedbalt Gurn of the Tower captured, Lord Roul killed by a Lodean man. The Goldfield regiments fled back into the Kinglands. She hoped Ultiir, being from Goldfield, would share their cowardice.

Marla grabbed a loaf of seeded bread and shared some with Yvanne. They were in what was left of the lady’s solar. Anything of importance was gone. Jewels and dresses and silverware and golden chalices. “I do hope the war is over when you have the babe,” Marla said. “Raising a child in this mess cannot be good for their soul.”

“I agree. That’s why I must march onto Vigur soon.”

“In this state?” Marla cocked her head. “Shouldn’t you rest?”

Yvanne was tired of everyone worrying about her ‘state’. Yes, she was exhausted, and sore, and hungry; her ankles were swelling, and in the morn she would occasionally vomit. But nothing would stop her from taking Vigur. From rescuing Devro, who withered away in the dungeons. The men followed her. Her alone. “I can rest on the journey and after Vigur is won. I hear the palace is a lovely place to give birth. Might even dip my child in the Montla and fill them with Vigura’s gift.”

“How wonderful that would be.” Marla went to her balcony and looked down. Yvanne could barely make out the Whitefork below. It was a milky water. Slowly flowing down the mountains and eventually into the Montla. If only I could sail there. But the rocks and waterfalls would be too dangerous. “I hope my boys are alright out there. I haven’t heard from them in so long,” Marla said. “The last time they wrote, they were nearing Rushton.”

Yvanne stood slowly and waddled over to Marla. “I’m sure they are safe. You saw what we did to Lord Roul. The Asaramen are strong.”

Marla Mae wiped away tears. Below them was the army camping in the ruined town. Homes and shops and taverns and barns had been destroyed. Any fields in or near the city burned. The forest was almost burnt too, but some snow seemed to save it. Now, the men were cutting the great spruce and oak trees and readying the trunks to be turned into siege engines. It would slow them some, but having trebuchets and ladders and rams and ballistae when they reached the walls of Vigur was indispensable. The camp was full of infantrymen, cavalrymen, and knights. Purple, red, yellow, green, and blue tents were scattered about, making the desolate land a rainbow.

“I should be thanking you a thousand times for freeing my husband and me,” Marla said as Lord Oda Mae inspected some troops on the dirt below. “Did you hear the news from Midmount? A soldier from Hightail raped Lady Rida, and now she’s pregnant. Her husband won’t even speak to her. It’s terrible.” Grief overtook Marla as she cried and cried, the tears not stopping. Yvanne pulled her close. She had to comfort a woman old enough to be her mother. “If … that … had happ—happened to me …” Marla sobbed.

“But it didn’t. You’re alright.” Yvanne said as she brushed her fingers through Marla’s golden hair. “Only a few scrapes and bruises, but you’re okay. And I’m sure your sons are fine too, just like you and your husband. You’ll be reunited eventually.” There was a knock on the door. “Why don’t you rest? I’ll have someone watch your door.” Marla nodded and went to lie down on the ripped cushions of a chaise.

Little Tiro was at the door along with Sir Loc. “We’ve come to retrieve you, my queen.” Tiro said with his hands behind his back and his chin held high. “A rider for you.”

“You can drop the formalities, my good sir,” she mussed Tiro’s hair. “Sir Loc won’t do anything to you if you don’t address me as queen. Isn’t that right, sir?”

“Well,” Loc started, but Yvanne clicked her tongue, “it’s not exactly proper for a knight, and Pollard may have his hide for it, but it doesn’t concern me.”

Yvanne put her arm on Tiro’s back and they walked away from the solar, stepping over damaged armoires and broken glass. Lord Oda’s place of power wasn’t grand, but it was made of white stone taken from the quarries in the Asara, and it glistened even as the sky was darkening from clouds. They walked down steps that led to the camp below. The village was built just a few miles from the mountains, which rose with jagged edges into the sky. The Whitefork flowed down the slopes. Waterfalls rushed in the distance. The setting sun bathed the entire area in yellows and reds, as if the whole place were on fire again.

By the time they reached the ground made entirely of mud and dirt (the grass and paths destroyed in the rampage) Yvanne wanted to lie down. Her feet and ankles and legs and thighs and torso and chest and everything were sore. But she couldn’t show it. There were enough people worried about her, and more worried she wasn’t capable of handling the army. She had to prove them wrong.

The reason Tiro, or Sir Tiro, and Sir Loc fetched her became clear when she saw brown banners plastered with the cream-colored face of Anebro, the god of the warm summer winds. When she was younger, she had seen the same banners. Her father had gleefully told the story of all the male heirs to Weathers Edge dying and there only being a daughter left. He married her older brother, Diero, to the surviving girl. Weathers Edge was somewhere in Maertan along the Drewogh coast. Yvanne still had no idea why her father was so giddy about some village in the middle of nowhere.

Diero stood taller than anyone else around. He was lean, his brown head of hair covered his brow, and he wasn’t wearing armor, merely a gambeson of white. He had already found their other siblings when Yvanne reached him. “Little sis,” he hugged her, lifting her off the ground. “Or should I call you my lady, my duchess, maybe queen? So many titles.”

Yvanne giggled and took a deep breath after Diero set her onto the ground. “Just call me Yvanne. Titles aren’t important around family.”

Pollard, clad in his white armor that had dimmed from the dirt and battles, embraced Diero as well. “Didn’t think you’d come all this way. I was sure when father sent out the letters you’d be the one to stay away.”

“Stay away?” Diero laughed as he shook arms with their other brother, Ed the Loon. “Haven’t you heard? Rowan is in the war now. Who else do you think freed Redington and is now sailing the Nokys? I’m waiting for the queen of Maertan to send her forces to back you as well.”

“Weathers Edge is far away though,” Yvanne said. “The Rowai were on ships.”

“I’m better than the Rowai; I marched all the way here. Ready to beat back any of the usurpers’ dogs. I am sorry I missed the death of father though. Weathers Edge was besieged with snow for months.”

Yvanne said, “That’s alright. I missed it too. The daken said he died peacefully, and I choose to believe her words.” Tiro brought over a wooden chair for Yvanne, but she didn’t sit in it, just rested her hands as she held up her tiredness. “I’m glad you came. I’m glad any of my brothers and sisters could come.”

“Not many of us,” Diero said, looking from Yvanne to Pollard to Ed.

“Cada is protecting Whitehall with the Sea Snakes. I heard Lady Lolly and her husband are meeting us in Goldfield,” Yvanne said. “Hopefully, they don’t run into any trouble. Ed here arrived about a week ago. You should’ve seen him in the battle.”

“The Loon is stronger than any other,” Ed said of himself.

“And how is the Town of Sendals?” Diero asked. Gamm Lars in Plajul was known as the Town of Sendals for the ancient women-like creatures that seduced any who visited. Some say the creatures still lived there.

“Perfect as always.” Somewhere, Ed the Loon had found a mug of ale. It smelled strong, but he drank it with no problem, some dripping on his chest hair that protruded from his leather tunic. “The prick-of-a-lord doesn’t want to die, so I’ve nothing to do there but sit and wait. The only good things in Plajul are my beautiful wife and the whores,” he laughed as he drank more, almost choking. “When I received word of Yvanne’s march, I didn’t hesitate. Lord Yit ordered me to stay. I told him to fuck himself and his wife’s corpse. We’ll see how much trouble I get in later, but I brought any man who wanted to join me, and here I am.”

“And how much fighting do you get up to?” Diero asked, his hands on his hips. “I know at Weathers Edge we just have to deal with Bahr raids and sometimes a pirate or two. I doubt the Town of Sendals sees much attack.”

Ed wiped his mouth and passed the mug to one of his soldiers. “Refill.” He ordered. “A few rebellions in the east here and there. That king doesn’t know how to control his people. But remember, we fought side by side against the mites. Nothing made my cock grow more than seeing their heads sliced in two,” the Loon roared.

Yvanne shook her head. “Why don’t we go to my tent and finish this talk? We need to speak about strategy too. I know Gordo is trying to make the perfect plan.”

“Gordo’s here too?” Diero asked as he followed Yvanne and their brothers and a few guards across the makeshift camp. “He must’ve traveled the farthest. I assume Lord Albert,” he said with a mocking tone about their eldest brother, “didn’t come since you are still the duchess?”

“He wants to stay in Canniage for the time being. His new wife just had another child.”

“Taking after our father,” Pollard muttered. As they passed the soldiers and the lords and the men-at-arms, many of them bowed and said, “My queen,” to Yvanne. Some daken were tending to the wounded in their tents, smiths were busy finding any steel to make more weapons, bakers were doing their best to make bread and crackers and she even saw a few with fresh eggs from a hen.

“Don’t look down on those who enjoy being inside a woman,” Ed howled, “just because you’ll never feel the joy.” The Loon patted Pollard on his back, his plate armor singing with the clap. “Why anyone would take that shit vow to become a knight I will never understand.”

“Honor. Duty.” Pollard said.

“I’ve as much honor as you, little brother,” Ed clapped his big, bear-like hands. “It might be a little further down in me though.”

“Pollard does a good thing protecting Yvanne and the people of Whitehall.” Diero said.

The talk ended when they reached Yvanne’s tent. She had been sleeping in the castle with Lady Marla since Whitefork was liberated, but her tent was still used to plan the rest of the war and the attack on Vigur. Her tent was larger than the rest, right in the center of the ruined town. It was a great white cloth plastered with bears. Through the flaps lay her sheepskin-covered bed that she let her handmaid, Jacka, use at the moment; the center of the tent was a desk a mess with maps and letters. Chairs decorated the left side. It was where her council would meet. Now, she had more people. Gordo and Lords Cul and Aimora and Urses de’Marisco were peering over maps, talking of plans. They all bowed when she came in, and Gordo found Diero where they chatted about lost time.

“Sit, sit,” Lord Cul of Mount Meret said. His face was always angry, his brow lowered and eyes squinted, but his fighters from the peak were some of the best warriors Yvanne had, so she put up with the old Cul.

“Before we start, I’d like to hear of any issues on your trek from Whitehall,” Diero said as he and everyone else found a chair. Yvanne stood with Cul, Aimora, and Gordo by the desk. Tiro was off to the side. Probably waiting to catch me if I fall.

Pollard stepped forward. “Not much in the Duke’s Pass, just a few skirmishes. Lord Pilly of Rockforge thought he could besiege the Crossing, but Lord Osbern Lot wouldn’t fall so easily. We were able to help fortify and rout Pilly’s men. Then we came across a host of traitors in the lowlands. Lords Edward Tall, Tedbalt Gurn, and Tyro Widl all declared for Ultiir.”

“We made sure your gods took them as the traitors they were,” Aimora finished. “Then we saved the Brownfork and the Whitefork. It was all too easy.”

“We still lost men,” Yvanne said as she looked over a map of her duchy. The Lands of Asara was covered in mountains and valleys. Rivers and glaciers. Forests and meadows. It was all hers. But war divided it.

Urses was standing close to Yvanne. She had released him from the prison in Whitehall, and now she trusted him, maybe too much. When he didn’t want to come on the march to Vigur, she had to force him. Her sister, Cada, didn’t trust him at all, so it made more sense to keep Urses close instead of letting him have free rein over Whitehall. “We will win a thousand more once we reach Vigur,” Urses said in a low voice. “They will see our host and switch sides, I’m sure of it.”

“We just can’t forget the ones we lost,” Yvanne said.

“Of course,” the old Lord Cul said. “Let’s not lose anymore on the march south.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Ed asked. “My men and I are itching to leave this milky water and scour the Montla. They’ve been training all day and night.”

“We don’t need to rush into things,” Gordo cautioned. He took off his helm to show his balding head. “We need to be cautious about Vigur. Ultiir has surely seen to its defenses.”

“When was the last time the city fell?” Pollard asked.

“The mites besieged the city,” Diero said, “but it never fell. So not since Valor the Betrayer lost the city to the Vlylahl Forces.”

“Just a couple of centuries,” Ed swatted it away like a bug. “We’ll break the walls down in a day’s time and this war will be over.”

“I like the optimism,” Aimora said. Lord Aimora Dore and his men had gotten strange looks in very town and village they went through, even looks of fear. The Lodean people weren’t welcome this far in the lowlands. Yvanne made sure it wasn’t an issue. The swords and shields they carried didn’t hurt either. “But I don’t think it will be so easy. We’ve been trying to come up with a plan. Lord de’Marisco is the only one who’s seen the city of recent years.”

“They have stone walls and watchtowers,” Yvanne said. “What more is there?”

Urses scratched his chin. His baby-face scrunched with thought. “Ultiir wasn’t able to do much to bolster the defenses when I was there. Of course, it’s been months now, so I’ve no idea what’s changed. Lord Geary’s death would’ve certainly done a number on the city guard though. Whoever replaced him was surely not as competent.”

“So just spikes and stakes and traps?” Gordo said and tapped his finger on the map of Vigur. “Lord de’Marisco has proposed Lord Cul and his warriors lead the vanguard. I haven’t seen them fight in battle, but from what I’ve been told, they’ll do just fine.”

“And Lord Cul,” Cul spoke of himself, “doesn’t agree.”

“Like I’ve said,” Urses began, “you have the best chance of breaking through the walls. I’m sorry to say, but without you, we’ll lose the battle quickly.”

“The Loon’s men will join,” Ed bellowed. “We’re not ones to pass up the opportunity to be in the van. Make Ultiir wish he was never a miracle child.”

“What about the rivers?” Diero asked as he crossed his legs. “They could sneak Devro away on a boat, and we would never know since we’ll be busy with the walls.”

“Good point,” Gordo said and wrote it done on a parchment that was full of ink.

“We also have to worry about reinforcements from the east,” Cul said. “I hear his mother is still in Goldfield. If she sends an army to join the fray, we’ll be trapped on both sides.”

“Rila de’Tro and Ultiir have an … odd relationship.” Urses played with his fingers. “It’s possible she sends help, but I’m sure Ultiir isn’t counting on it.”

“Your Grace,” Sir Rickart entered with a skinny man who was out of breath. “An urgent rider from the east. He has a letter”

“Hopefully no fight,” Gordo said.

Yvanne walked over to the rider. “Why have you come? What’s the letter say?”

The haggard man shook his head. “I can’t read, milady, but I was told to give it to the red-haired one.”

“Go find some food and water,” she said before taking the letter. The seal was some strange symbol she had never seen, and she worried it was a marching lord coming to deal a blow to them in Whitefork, but when she opened it she saw Tundavik’s signature at the bottom. “Tundavik and the lords of the Flewthlands are nearing the River Samosay. They’re getting closer to Vigur.”

Ed the Loon leaped from his chair, the others jumping from fright. “I must tell my men war is near! They will train extra hard!” he yelled as he ran from the tent.

“Shall we ready the troops?” Pollard asked.

Yvanne held up a hand. “We’ll wait until tomorrow. The Samosay is still a hundred miles from Vigur. If we reach Vigur without Tundavik, then I’m not sure we win. Let’s come up with our plan of attack tonight. Let’s be ready.” Yvanne went back to the table to plan a war with her family.