A Daemon-Horn Blade Ch. 12

As Rowan's orange sword flame extinguished itself, a brand new and different fire began to light up the sky. Coryn, the Captain of The Lady Ellyn, himself poured the oil and personally lit the flame that set the good ship ablaze from stem to stern. She burned quickly, and sunk quietly into the river and was gone just shortly before midnight. Then, with his crew gathered together, they swore their own personal oaths of loyalty to Rowan, pledging to serve him... and the Lady, as well.

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Later Oddtus came over to Rowan's side and gave the lad a well needed hug. "You know of course, that you swore no such oaths either to the Duke or The Lady to protect and defend the very land itself." The Foole reminded him.

"Certainly I did. I swore oaths to serve both of them. Is not the Lord part of the Land, and the Land part of the Lord? Indistinguishable and inseparable? Or is that only appropriate for Kings and Emperors?"

The Foole thought for a moment and just smiled at the lad, before returning back to the side of the Lady Ayleth, to offer her some last suggestions for things that needed to be done very first thing in the morning.

When dawn arose and the meager breakfast meal was prepared, nearly every single man, woman and child took a renewed oath of loyalty to the Lady, and to the Duchy, with but very few that repudiated her, who left the camp to fend out on their own. A few later reconsidered and were eventually accepted back into the community, but under the weight of several rather stern oaths to hold their future loyalty and obedience.

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For the next two days, the camp was bustling with activity as numerous organized search parties scoured the great ruins of the town exhaustively to locate and recover every underground granary or provisions storage that the surviving townsmen knew of. In addition, other groups search for carts, carriages, wagons and anything else with wheels that could be reclaimed or repaired from the wreckage. Eventually with the skill of a few carpenters and even a wheelwright, enough were salvaged and repaired to be able to bear heavy loads of recovered sacked grain and produce. Even with the addition of numerous late arriving survivors, which now increased their host to a total of nearly eight hundred, Coryn, the former Captain and now their chief quartermaster, calculated that they had enough to feed everyone two adequate meals a day for nearly a month. The counsel agreed that this would indeed do and together they made their next plans for travel!

The formerly rather informal counsel to Lady Ayleth, overnight became something much more administrative and authoritative. Calling themselves now The Lady's Regimental Counsel, their leaders consisted of the Foole, Rowan and Boyle, the Captain, and now Gwenda. Everyone now looked to Rowan, rather than the Lady herself for supreme guidance, much to the lad's discomfort. He in turn relied heavily on his two strong friends and assistants, the invariably very wise and sensible Boyle, and Gwenda, whose mere presence was often enough to give him strength and comfort whenever the lad felt overwhelmed, which was increasing often. He was certainly no general, either by training or temperament, but he did soon learn to listen to anyone that had a good idea, and how to delegate his impossible burden and responsibility around to others.

At first, Rowan had wanted his friend Boyle to be his adjutant and drillmaster, to start taking control of their new untrained army to begin molding it into a reasonably effective force, but the lad had found himself some other more interesting, but nearly equally important duties. A fair number of horses had been rounded up from several stables in the city that hadn't succumbed to the flames or become rations for the Boar-Men. Enough, that when added to additional mounts from Silana, and those that his growing troop of horsemen found wandering about the area from pillaged hamlets and farms, that Boyle soon found himself commanding a reasonably substantial cavalry force of nearly forty men, carefully picked from the cream of the available men that had at least some experience on horseback. Now armed with long spears and some cavalry sabers recovered from the ruined guardhouses, they spent virtually the next few days riding scout for some miles around the ruined town, drilling and learning how to maneuver and fight as a team. Rowan wished him luck.

A few guardsmen from the town had survived, unfortunately probably by turning heel and running for their lives the moment the gate was breeched. Their morale was better now, but Rowan just didn't think that any of them were suited for command. The Foole wasn't exactly qualified to the task either, and he had the probably more difficult responsibility of managing the Lady.

By happenstance, one morning while Gwenda was giving Rowan his morning exercise drill with swords, they had attracted quite a crowd, and many of the men who had found weapons started to join in with the exercise. It was serendipitous, but Rowan had now found his drillmaster, or rather mistress. A few chauvinistic soldiers weren't happy about taking orders from a woman, but Gwenda just smiled whenever she ran into a blockhead troublemaker and quite easily kicked his ass each and every time, either with the flat of her sword, a knee swiftly kicked into the gonads, or even with her bare arms. There was nothing she didn't already know about the fine manly arts of pugilism or wrestling, learned from her athletic brother. Being taller than most of the men, even without her boots, didn't hurt a bit either. Quite quickly they learned to be more frightened of her, than of the Boar-Men enemy that they would soon undoubtedly face.

When the last arms-man, and quite a few eager would-be arms-women as well, were at least minimally armed and armored, Gwenda reported that she had available to her a small undersized regiment of about three hundred and fifty potential soldiers. Tentatively, she figured that at least fifty of them wouldn't quite meet even minimal expectations, being probably either too old, too young or too weak, and she had already made plans to make this weaker group a mobile resupply and first-aid group for the wounded. Oddtus and his apprentice Ashburn agreed to train this non-combat support group, with the former Sergeant assigned to be their unit commander and medicus trainer.

Upon further discussion, it was agreed to divide up the regiment into three companies of one hundred troops each, in the Caestorian Imperial fashion, with each company consisting of three squadrons; the first with swords and shields in the front of the battle line, the second with long spears and pikes behind them, and the third in the rear with bows providing covering archery fire. With three companies in a solid line of battle, trained to hold firm and fight in place, with Boyle's small cavalry unit on the flanks and in reserve, the Counsel agreed that their fledging army might actually stand some sort of decent chance against some of the smaller roaming Boar-Man war-bands. To fight against the size of an army that had destroyed Silana and Elmcrygh would be an entirely different matter.

Unfortunately the Eorfleode were much more mobile as a unit than Rowan's force could ever hope to be, with its fragile repaired wagons and many of the non-combatant women, children and elderly on foot walking, their force wouldn't have a prayer of fleeing or evading a battle that they did not think they could win. Boyle's cavalry scouts were going to be essential to avoid this fate, and much depended upon them.

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On the morning of the third day after the regiment had been formed, it was decided that the last of the easily reclaimable provisions and gear from the burned town had already been gathered and it was past time to get moving on the road south. Rowan and Boyle would have liked to have gone chasing after the southern Boar-Man army, but in their hearts and minds both they knew that this would be chewing off far more danger than their virtually untrained under-sized regiment could hope to handle. Nor could they go after the smaller Eorfleode war-bands that split up and gone east into the vast Lloan valley. With the heavy recent rains there was no way their wagons could swiftly move that direction on bare ground, with no stone roads heading east from here into the valley. The trade in that area usually relied upon the two great rivers, or a good stone road in the central-east of the valley that ran further east from Kenniford to Everdun, or at the border with it also ran south through far eastern Broadmore to the coast.

Instead, it was decided that they would follow the good stone trade road that ran south-east to the Hythe River. There on the river, the border town of Ruromel would be undoubtedly be requiring their aid and assistance. Perhaps also its sister town Brydara on the Broadmore side of the river, would need their aid as well. If they could be of help there, then perhaps their Duke might then be of help to them as well?

Soon they settled into a routine. Boyle and his cavalry scouted the road ahead them and tried their best to practice and learn on the job, conducting fancy coordinated wheel movements and practiced charges and retreats. Next, at the front of their regiment, Rowan and Gwenda rode their horses and tried to look and act more confident than they really felt. In their dirty travelling leathers they didn't look fancy or particularly authoritative, but they did have the respect of the men and women, and that was more than enough. Then, behind them, the 1st Company marched in rows of three, with an archer, spearman and swordsman each in a row, so that there would be plenty of coverage of the roadsides, in the event of an ambush. Next came the Lady Ayleth, riding in a fairly smoke charred, but more or less repaired carriage that had formerly belonged to some former nobleman or baron of the town. She kept her chin and nose in the air to put on a noble pose for her soldiers, but with every league that they marched she became increasingly annoyed that these seemed to be Rowan's and even now Gwenda's soldiers, rather than hers. Riding on either side of her were the remaining members of her Counsel, the Foole at her left and Coryn her quartermaster on her right. They were both constantly giving her bits of tedious information and gentle reminders and suggestions, but she was getting increasingly good at toning their voices out, as if they were annoying courtiers back at home... always wanting something and never shutting up! After her carriage, the 2nd and 3rd Companies then marched, with their families and other non-combatant refugees more or less protected in-between the two companies.

First thing in the morning, the three companies would individually conduct weapons drill for about an hour while the rest of the camp prepared breakfast and packed the camp for departure. An hours rest was called at high noon, but no organized meal was prepared. The clever and the hungry learned to pack something away for a later snack after breakfast. In the late afternoon when they stopped for the day, the three companies would practice fighting together as a combined unit, beginning with a rehearsal of how they would respond to a sudden attack while marching down the road. Each afternoon, Rowan would point in a random direction and shout the command to assemble in their ranks for battle, with each company running to get into place. It was very sloppy at first, but he made them do it over, again and again that first evening well into darkness until they sort of got it right. With more practice the following evenings, even Gwenda finally began to become satisfied with their progress.

After dinner, often the archers would take extra target practice by fire and torchlight. The growing aide and support unit had lengthy lessons as well, as they learned how to tend to the minor wounds incurred in practice, to be ready to aid and treat the wounded during and after battle. Progress training the regiment was slow but steady, and everyone hoped by the time they ran into trouble for real that they would be ready.

Unfortunately, one particular bit of trouble was already festering in their ranks. The Lady Ayleth was growing increasingly angry at the way Gwenda was commanding 'her' army, and she had carefully planned the time and place for a showdown.

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For a change, on their fourth day of travel, the skies cleared and it was a lovely warm and dry day for a change. Since everyone had been marching in wet clothes, and most had wet soggy packs as well, Rowan decreed that today would be a partial day of rest and that the regiment would stop and make camp at noon, to give everyone the opportunity to change and dry out all of their damp clothes. Sometimes it's the little nagging things that destroy military morale, and their troops were delighted that their increasingly brooding general really did care about their welfare.

The spot chosen for the early campground was an excellent one. There were several small streams that crossed the road, and even a small pond nearby that was well suited for the ladies to enjoy some bathing. Rowan ordered the company to their rest but he got rather little himself, as Boyle, Coryn and The Foole came over to coordinate the thousands of tiny things that keep an army fed, clothed, reasonably happy and moving.

The Lady Ayleth, seeing that this was the perfect time to arrange a little 'understanding' with her less than submissive drill-mistress, made her preparations and then sweetly sidled up to Gwenda and invited her to come take a bath with her over at the nearby small pond. The tall red-haired lass was rather fond of regular and frequent bathing, despite her firm martial attitudes, and heartily agreed. Together the pair walked off to the pond, apparently eager for a bit of relaxation.

"Uh-oh, do you see what I see?" Boyle muttered suddenly, interrupting Coryn who was in mid report about the lack of proper foot attire for most of the regiment.

"I think I do." Rowan said. "But what of it? The ladies are off to take a bath I suppose, they like to do that sort of thing. So do I actually, and I think I'll take one myself later this evening after dinner. Boyle, you scouted that pond yourself, is it big or deep enough for me to swim, to take a reasonable lap or two? I've got two locked up shoulder muscles that are cramped up solid with tension!"

"Ah, well if you want to relieve tension, I'd suggest you go have a private talk with Gwenda about that. You two haven't had a single private moment since you limped back three-quarters dead from the rescue mission. I've seen the way she looks at you... she'd warm your blankets in but a moment, if asked. She's never more than a few feet from your side."

"True, but this still isn't really the time or the place for dalliance and personal fun. I've got over eight hundred people to worry about and I'm not going to be able to properly rest until I get at least some of them dropped off at Ruromel. The pressure is giving me a screaming headache and the constant rain hasn't at all helped!"

'The rain on this plain causes Rowan migraines?" The Foole impishly queried. Rowan and Boyle then both gave the gléaman a hard dubious look hinting at more than a bit of malice, and he chuckled and wandered off a bit to speak with Coryn some more about their endless supply problems.

Rowan continued to fret impatiently. "On horses, and with just our original quest party, we could have already been there maybe by now, and I doubt if we're even quite half-way there yet. I swear I'm about to go nuts! For a bent copper bit, I'd quit this Hero/Champion business and trade this infernal sword for an honest smith's hammer! But of course, that's quite impossible. I'm beginning to think that I'll never have a normal life ever again! Everyone is looking at me as if I was a great lord, expecting me to be wise and brilliant -- to get everyone to safety, kill off all of the Boar-Men by myself, and fix the world and all of its other problems... I don't even have answers to my own problems, how can I solve everyone else's?"

"Don't worry so much. Everything seems to be working out! Trust in the Weaver's and The Seven, and follow the path that they steer us upon. I'm sure that the Foole sees it better than we do, so we have to trust him! As bad as the situation is, I think all of the really big decisions are going made for us, so there is no sense worrying about things we've got absolutely no control over."

That much was definitely true, Rowan agreed. Boyle then reported the results of the latest scouting report.

"My rear scouts are still finding traces of night-goers behind us that he swears are following our path. They can't have a hope of a prayer to take on a group our size, so I don't have a clue what they're up to, but they shouldn't be bothering us. Maybe the Boar-Men sacked their homes too! They're a good five leagues behind us and keeping their distance carefully, so go take your swim this evening and don't rush it. The pond is of course smaller than Lily Lake back home, but it's quite big enough to splash around in and work out some frustration. And speaking of working out some frustration... if I were you, I'd keep a weather eye on those two gals up at that pond right now, all alone. The Lady has been in wee bit of a frightful snit lately and looks daggers constantly at your gal, and has been for days now. If I didn't know any better I'd say she was jealous. I don't believe for a moment that she's buried the hatchet and made up all kissy-kissy with her, do you? Remember what happened the last time she smiled at someone? Cedany told me laughingly once that when her Lady smiled, everyone knew that they were in trouble!"

"How could I ever forget! Cedany told me those stories too, and they weren't always funny! Ayleth damned near got all of us killed on that fool mission. You're right, I think some claws are about to come out in private and I should at least be close enough to come to the rescue if need be."

"Ayleth couldn't take Gwenda in any fight, fair or foul, with any number of hidden weapons pulled out in ambush." Boyle laughed.

"Of course not! I just don't want Gwenda to kick her Ladyships pert ass overly excessively. Like her or not, she's the Duke's daughter and I'm sworn to defend her... eventually, some time right after she cries out like a spanked schoolgirl begging for mercy. I thought you were muttering about pulling her across your lap and giving her a good spanking yourself?"

"I was, but Gwenda and The Foole talked me out of it, at least for right now... but I will have my vengeance before that very same dagger that she stabbed into my back as well, becomes too much more rusted with age, or so the old saying about revenge goes!"