Published Jun 30, 2010
848 Pages
Genre: FICTION / Fantasy / Epic
The Empire, of memories long faded into a darkened past; is found alive in a young woman. Joanna finds her destiny with a man, a Guild Warrior; a man she has seen in her dreams her life entire. And together will they witness their destinies unfolding. This all happens upon a distant and forgotten world, a Frontier World, long lost to civilized memory. Little do the actors presented here know of their portion or measure of this epic tale. But for my own part, Dear Friend, know you this one and simple truth...that I was there...
From a portion of the Preface:
‘Tis been uncounted millennia since Humankind first ventured out from some tiny, dim and now long lost, long forgotten corner of the galaxy. World after world were made a’new, peopled by Humanity, and forming into alliances, one with another, until finally came a mighty empire. Then Fate cursed, for History nor Fate, will suffer an empire to last.
All fell a’way into the First Dark Age. Histories were erased. Wonders of the Human mind and hand were lost. The family of worlds became estranged. Then, after a time, born again was Empire; wonders renewed, and histories, sadly, rewritten. Then came yet another fall, another Dark Age, another rebirth.
Tragically, this was to prove a cycle...Empire born...Empire lost.
We, Dear Friend, were once of Empire, and none now living remember which, or when, only that we are once again alone in the darkness. We pray and hope for a hand to reach down out of The Stars, a mighty hand to draw us up and into the light. We hope that we may once more open our eyes, reach out and not fear the darkness. This tale, Dear Friend, may catch the first rays of a new dawn.
Our tale is of changing times, and of a man who found change amongst those times. He is not the most important of this tale, nor would he approve of being thought of as such. He was simply the tiller, the steer board, of the vessel which guided us all upon this, our journey across the vast ocean that is Destiny.
Fate oft serves as the Navigator through the storms which we must brave. But Fate is not the man...the man is only...a man.
From Chapter 6:
“I have come, upon behalf of My Prince, to offer a contract to Grey’s Company.”
“We are but recently released from one contract only to be invited into another!” Grey laughed, though his eyes displayed no humor and even less patience with this fellow whom insisted upon calling himself Canard. Grey leaned close to Canard and took hold of his wooden mug before the latter rose again to his lips. “The Ancients spoke in many languages now thought to be long lost, but many mistake in that claim. Not all the Old Tongues are forgotten.”
“And?” Canard winced as Grey’s iron grip tightened round the flagon’s handle and the fingers holding it. Canard’s face reflected the pain crushing his hand.
“‘Canard’, Sir,” Grey whispered, “...is an old word for...’hoax’...a ‘lie’...”
Our Captain drew closer and narrowed his eyes, his fingers closing like a vise. “Pray tell me quick! Claim you to be of the same house as that of Doohan of Blessed Memory...or, are you merely a maker of names.”
“My true name is of little importance to the wild world.” The man panted as his brow grew beaded with sweat and veined with the pain, “...kill me if you must, Brother, but know you this...I am but the Simple Man come from the Far North, seeking the Traveler from the West.”
Grey and every other in the tent gaped at the words spoken. Alethea glanced to the Captain with wide eyes. Her voice was low as she gave the ancient answer; “...and here is the Traveler, come from the West, with not but an empty purse. An Ancients’ greeting used by the Sisters of The Goddess! The oldest, most HOLY Order of High Priestesses!”
The man calling himself Canard bowed low to Grey as the latter released his grip. “My Brother, My House is in the direst of peril. Wouldst thou deny my plea? If so, then, permit a poor wandering Captain reclaim the road in search of another.”
“And claim you to serve House Duschan, Captain? Where lies this house...in what land, and does it boast this army of which you spoke?”
“In a land called Orinthia...and yes, but those numbers will pale before the hosts that are fated to move against us!”
“Speak your mind, Guildman of House Duschan!”
“First, permit me to say this to Her Grace, Alethea, and thereby to Captain Lucan that I may convey the following.” He looked to her and spoke solemnly, “...Holiness, you are incorrect as to the fate of Mistress Maratina, so Beloved of Lucan’s Company...she was indeed taken, as your mind told you, but she was slain shortly afterwords...murdered by agents of this new threat.”
Lucan’s face darkened as voices raised all round him. Grey’s was filled with fury, as were those of Udria, Tweed, Niles and Quigg. Alethea looked as though smitten by a shot of lightning. But still Canard stood firm.
“When I learn of the architect of Her Holiness’ fate, Captain Lucan, you shall be the second to know, mark me.” Canard turned then to Grey. “Captain Grey, I must beg this question...how many Guild Companies, save for Lucan’s, have you encountered these five years past?”
The question was so absurd and out of place as to create silence amongst all. Jaws clamped shut and eyes wandered as minds sifted through memory. Grey looked to Tweed and watched the latter shake his head and shrug his shoulders. Indeed, the question was valid...
“‘Twas some seasons past...in the Far Southlands.” Grey looked to Quigg with raised eyebrows, “...but they were not of the Guild...merely hirelings of House Cleve...with but few Guildmen in company.” He looked to Canard again. “We have been many seasons fighting upon the far frontiers of those lands held by Prince Ruffio...against brigands and bands of raiders and slavers.”
“Few of the Houses we’ve fought,” Quigg shrugged, “...even ‘ad Guildmen...”
“Expanding the holdings of a Prince that sees no Guildmen as a threat,” Canard sighed, still massaging the bones of his right hand, “...until Prince Ruffio encounters Captain Lucan...” He slowly turned his head to Grey’s colleague, ”...he is then advised by Orsini to bring forth his only Guild Company to confront the only other Guild Company still at large this side of the Great Central Plains.” Canard turned again to Grey. “See you not this strange situation? Where are all the Guildmen hereabouts? What word have you received from Freiburg?”
Grey scowled at the dirt floor of his tent and thought through what had just been thrust into his brain. Indeed, what word had been forthcoming from the city that stood as Capitol for all Guildmen south of the Great Mountains? Faith, what Guildmen had he encountered o’er these last several seasons? He raised his eyes to Canard’s. “What has befallen Freiburg...”
“That which shall overcome us all, lest you and your company come to House Duschan.” Canard became very grave, “...for yours and Lucan’s are the only full Companies to survive The Purge.”
“Not all the princes combined,” Tweed snorted, “...not upon their best days could they hope to overpower the Guild...this is ridiculous, and...”
“He speaks the truth,” Alethea whispered, staring hard at the floor, “...I have felt this for many months...Damnation to me for a fool.” Her eyes were wet as she looked to Grey. “The portents were so absurd...I thought them to be not but a fitful dream...so many have come to me of late. I lost my way.”
Grey’s eyes forgave her, as did his mind as it whispered into hers.
Lucan spoke up. “I’ve heard word of this too...of townsmen goaded into ambushing Guild Companies upon the march...plundering guns, shot, powder...” His eyes fell lower, “...taking the Guildwives as well as the Craftswomen and Gunwrights. I’ve also heard that many of the lesser skilled Guildhusbands, seen as useless, were killed straighta’way. ‘Twas under these conditions that I thought that this posting at Huss Town might remove us from this new threat.”
“And saw you no need to dispatch couriers to Freiburg?” Grey demanded.
“I had sent such,” Lucan shoulders sagged, “...but none returned. The word had come back from other sources that we were alone...that no other Guild Company was at large...save yours. Faith, it seemed the odd blessing of sorts to finally confront Guildmen at last!”
“So, to put matters simply,” Grey chuckled with grim humor, “...I am informed that the Guild, so far as we know it, is a’plunder at the hands of miscreant rogues who find themselves under the command of wayward princes. Freiburg was besieged and is now lost to these same criminals, and, that the only two intact Guild Companies this side of the Central Plains have just concluded the final business of battering hell out of each other, AND, that we are now both out of a bloody job...yes?”
“Of this latter I wish to modify...for My Master seeks your assistance. He would contract with you upon your own terms.”
“But you earlier boasted before Orsini and Ruffio of an army numbering some sixty thousands.” Grey shrugged, “...what good will come of adding less than a tenth of that number.”
“Because we have fought neither war nor battle in uncounted centuries. Our only true fighting forces lay in my scouts and those guards closest to the Duchess, Joanna, Daughter and Heir Apparent to the throne. Dagmar’s Guard,” Canard smiled to Udria, “...are much like your Hussards, though all, every one, are female. She trusts no mere man to protect Her Duchess.”
Udria smiled. “I like her already...Dagmar is her name?”
“Aye,” Canard began to explain, “...an Ancient word meaning...”
“Bright Day,” Grey interrupted, “...her name means; ‘Bright Day’...so, ‘tis generalship you need. Then, simply put, go out and bloody well hire yourself a general.”
“But we also require the experience of your Companies, and those destined to join you.” Canard leaned close to Grey, “...everyone in the lands south of the Great Mountains know of Captain Grey, but none have heard a fig of Captain Canard, let alone of My House. When they hear that you are upon the march, they will wear out horses and boot leather to seek your colours and join!”
All sat in silence for a time, each in their own mind seeking answers to this. Grey let his eyes settle upon Alethea. He heard again the words of the Guild Priestess. “Is this the fara’way land you told me of in your visions? Are these the lands of House Duschan? And, are these the lands bordering some legendary valley?”
“The Northlands,” Alethea started to say, “...and the valley’s called...”
From Chapter 21:
The Herald spoke loud and clear upon the fore steps of the palace; “Come ye forth and be met by Their Graces, Joanna and Lucius Duschan, Duchess and Duke of House Duschan! COME YE ALL AND BE WELCOME!!”
Duchess Joanna of House Duschan sat in the great hall of the palace, to the right of an empty throne. She was garbed as earlier, dispensing with the royal frippery that laced the neck and cuffs of her step-brother. He sat to the left of the vacant seat. Canard, once again garbed in his splendid armour, marched toward upon booted feet. He dropped to one knee before the royal siblings (actually, before the empty center throne), and begged to be heard.
“Rise and speak, Friend Captain,” Joanna smiled beatifically.
He doffed his helm and stepped to one side, speaking out in a clear voice, “‘Tis my honor to present Grey, Captain-General of the Free Companies of the Guild. I also present Her Holiness, Alethea of Umbria, High Priestess and Chief Advisor to Captain-General Grey. In company are Colonels Carwood Marion Quigg, Allistair Fenton Tweed, Arvin Lucan, Silas Trainor, and Gunners Tuck and Gibbons. All beg to pay homage and service to House Duschan.”
The eight entered the hall, seven in their best armour, and Alethea garbed in the same decorated bare flesh as she had worn upon entry to Huss Town. She glided o’er the marble floor upon bare feet, halting before Joanna.
Alethea’s face glowed as she looked upon the young Duchess. Her belly warmed and her heart raced as she regarded the young woman as though they had been acquainted for a long, long time. THIS was the face she had seen for so long in her visions!
“Highness,” she bowed, and straightened again, “...may The Ancients Bless Your Majesty’s House, and may The Goddess Bless Your Majesty’s Royal Chalice!”
Grey tilted his head toward Tweed and whispered; “...may The Gods help us, another bloody red head...”
“Aye to that,” Quigg muttered, “...and a damnedably fine lookin’ one at that...”
Joanna rose from her throne and slowly walked down the three steps to the floor, her eyes riveted upon the face of Captain-General Grey. She looked to Alethea, moved for’ard and embraced her. While in each the other’s arms, she whispered into Alethea’s ear. Her step-brother strained to hear what was passing between them, ill concealing the anger at not having been first blessed by the Guildpriestess, nor even introduced!
The two women parted, Alethea stepping back and Joanna returning to her seat, eyes fixed still upon Grey’s somewhat confused face. He cleared his throat.
“And may it please Your Majesty...” He bowed with a wave behind him, “...the Captains of My Humble Command.”
With that, some five score Guild Captains marched into the palace. With boot steps in perfect cadence, the Guild Officers, women and men, marched thunderously for’ard, and halted behind Grey with a double hammering stamp of booted feet. Beautiful and terrible they were as Joanna a’rose to greet them. She studied their set faces, their battle worn, yet splendid armour, but mostly she noted the confidence of purpose that surrounded them like a halo of fire. These women and men would follow Grey into the very mouth of the Devil Herself, and pity to the poor old bitch for swallowing.
From Chapter 48:
“FIRE!!” Joanna shouted as the rear rank stood up and leveled muskets at the mass of pikemen. All three ranks, one prone, one kneeling and the last now on their feet, sent forth a blistering volley that clouded the fore with a boiling pall of white smoke. O’er this cloud could be seen hundreds of pikes tilting and falling. Men’s voices cried out in pain as Joanna waved her sword o’er and round her head. “FIRST BATTALIONS, STEP BACK!”
The line entire stood up, shouldered muskets and performed an about turn. Sar’Major Pettigrew barked, “FOR’AAARD...HARCH!” The Guildmen marched up the rise, crossing swiftly o’er the open ground. The Sar’Major bellowed orders that the line form columns on the march, forming six of these. Some hundred paces back were more formed battalions, set in dense squares and standing coolly upon the ground. The first battalions marched through the gaps in the second line and continued up the slopes toward a broad thicket of pines, and, a line of artillery half batteries. These opened fire like a line of musketeer sections, a simultaneous blast that sent shells howling overhead and plunging down into the enemy ranks below.
“SECOND BATTALIONS, FORM YOUR LINE!” A raven clad Dagmar shouted this as the gaps were swiftly closed by the rear rank and file. Lieutenants and sergeants danced left and right along the fore of the line, holding their swords or sponsons horizontal, and left and right, dressing the lines as straight as they may.
“MAKE READY!” Dagmar’s yell was echoed up and down the line as the front rank fell prone, the second dropping to one knee. “AIM!” she barked as thousands of musket tubes dropped like steel wheat blown o’er by a wind. She turned a powder stained face toward the enemy advance, seeing now that the gaps in the pike formations were filling with riflemen.
“FIRE!”
Men vanished under that blast of smoke that was again joined by the artillery. One could just see the shells bursting through the smoke, sending up gouts of earth, broken weapons and other gruesome objects. Enemy shot whistled overhead, punching holes in the rising smoke as they passed through and slammed into the ground. Several bounded o’er the ground like bowls, smashing through the ranks of the second battalions and knocking off heads, limbs or smashing through breasts.
Dagmar ignored the screams and looked up to the first battalions now formed on the heights above. She looked up to see that Joanna was in position. The Prince waved her sword. Officers below answered with waves of their own. The line made ready.
Dagmar lifted her voice; “SECOND BATTALIONS, STEP BACK!” The troops repeated the maneuver of the first battalions while these latter executed three timed volleys o’er their heads. By the time the second set of columns had reached them, the first battalions’ line had opened to let them through. And there, beyond, were the third, fourth and fifth battalion lines. Dagmar joined Joanna at the newly formed lines, a pair of She Devils ready for more bloody, terrible work.
The brigades in the rear were formed behind hastily thrown up walls of stone and timbers felled from the surrounding trees. From there they began a sporadic ripple of musketry, aimed at the advancing enemy pike squares and battalions of riflemen. The earlier volleys had told a terrible loss, as the ground was littered with enemy dead and dying. A chill breeze had come down from the gray sky to whisper a’way the smoke, sending the fog rolling down the slopes toward the plain before the river.
The sight revealed was as awesome as ‘twas terrible. Great black masses in five wide blocks could be seen advancing well behind the forces now moving steadily up the slopes. Two of those great battles could be observed to the west, one from the nor’west and another three from the north. Each bristled with pikes at the centre, with muskets to the flanks and fore. Like marching fortresses they were, easily numbering two to three thousands each. Before and to the flanks of each formation marched officers and scrambled more companies and battalions of riflemen. Many of the latter would pause to fire a quick volley up to the Guildmen.
“Gods, but what I wouldn’t give for just one of Mister Niles’ great guns,” muttered Wojeski as Joanna and Dagmar joined him at the stone fence.
Fredor chuckled as he dropped beside Joanna and Dagmar, “...hell, Jan, you’ve ne’er even seen one of Grey’s legendary brutes...”
“I have heard they are to terrify The Gods Themselves, M’Lord,” Joanna nodded to Fredor, wiping the soot from her face with a proffered towel, “...I just wish that He was here.” She looked westward, “...and She as well...”
“HERE THEY COME!!” someone shouted as the first and second battalion lines raced up the hill. Behind them were the seething masses of lowered pikes and companies of riflemen at the trot. The Guild battalions crossed o’er planks set a’top the stone fence and took up positions with the fourth line above. Orders were shouted, and down came musket barrels in a bowing steel wave of tubes.
“OPEN FIRE! FIRE AT WILL!”
From Chapter 49:
“LOOK at them, dammit!” she snapped, pointing far to the left, then right again, “...they’re moving in a series of right obliques from one flank, and left obliques from the other, both slowly converging here, AT THE CENTRE!”
“Krikey Mack!” Durst’s eye was to his glass and looking to each checkers board of marching troops, “...and I’ll bet that neither flank can see it.”
“SAR’MAJOR FISH!” Alethea shouted, “...SAR’MAJOR FISH!!”
She had to repeat this twice more before the man heard her, then gripped his rifle to his hip and ran toward her. He stumbled when a shell cut into a nearby tree, blowing limbs and bark at him. He jumped to his feet and finished his jog. “SAH!”
She pointed out the situation while the man looked through his own glass at the advancing lines. He cursed under his breath as Alethea raised her voice against a nearby battery’s answering fire.
“FIND COLONEL FALLON! TELL HER THAT I WANT HER DIVISIONS AT THE CENTER! INFORM HER OF WHAT IS TO COME! I’VE GOT TO WARN JOANNA THAT WHAT SHE’S SEEING IS ONLY A DEMONSTRATION...THAT THE ATTACK IS COMING HERE!!”
Read on, Dear Friend, and discover what perils occurred betwixt, between and thereafter.
Then, onward to the next Great Chapter in Our Epic Story...Your Story...set soon to come after Empire's Sword...
Empire's Crown...
