Queen of Rebels Read online

  "Not so often these days." Not since the Demon was done training him and the rest of the Brave Lads.

  "Why? Is he abandoning us?"

  "No, no, he is staying with us." Ben glanced at the groom, who walked away with his bride in his arms, ignoring the cart that came to take them and their gifts to their new house. "He is just taking a little break from a long life of fighting."

  2. RONA

  "We are doomed once they lower the bars behind us." Gramus gazed at the iron gates of the ancient castle of Neldon, hinting for the hundredth time perhaps at the trap awaiting her and her small army of Skandivian mercenaries.

  "I thought no one could harm me as long as you stood by my side." Rona grinned at her brawny guardian, her armor rattling as her black charger walked forward. "Going somewhere mayhap?"

  "Rona, please." He clenched his jaw as he glanced backward to make sure that nobody heard him address her by her name without 'Your Grace'—as he always did. "It's an obvious trap, and still, you insist on falling willingly to it. Wheel your horse and walk away from these walls while you still can."

  "Too late, General." Rona nodded toward the stone walls of the castle. "Jerek's archers must have seen us already. He will send his knights after us the moment we turn around."

  Gramus's thick eyebrows rose in astonishment. "So, you know it's a trap."

  Talking to him was not helping at all. She should have ignored him, like she had done all the way from Skandivia to Bermania. I need your war axe, Gramus, not your wisdom, she wanted to say, but she would never offend the only man she trusted in this world.

  Waving to them, she urged the Skandivians behind her to hurry, Gramus shaking his head in disapproval. She never missed those mocking smiles whenever she gave an order to those heartless, scar-faced warriors. They must be laughing at the twenty-year-old blonde who thought she could lead those hired beasts on a battlefield. Gramus had advised her to stay at Skandivia and let him march with the troops. But that was her war. If she really wanted to win it, she had to fight it herself.

  "Your Grace," Gramus grunted like a raging Skandivian bull. "If you are planning to capture this castle with one hundred men, then allow me to tell you: this is suicide."

  "You told me that Skandivian warriors were invincible."

  "They are good. The best, I mean. But if they are outnumbered one to seven, they won't be invincible." He shook his head again. "Damned that, Rona! If blood was your intention from the beginning, why would you leave nine hundred warriors behind you in Skandivia? We will need every strong arm available in this battle."

  "Calm down, Gramus. Compose yourself." Rona gestured to him. "There is no battle. We are here to have a talk with Duke Jerek."

  "I don't trust that rat—"

  "Rat or not, he will bend the knee," she cut him off to end this pointless blabber, and it worked. Until her horde reached the gates of Neldon, Gramus said nothing to her and directed his 'attention' toward the Skandivian warriors, yelling at them to stick to the double column on their march. Yes, they were mercenaries, but today they were the Queen's soldiers. Her vassals before her enemies must see her men's discipline.

  Neldon’s wall was in an abysmal condition, especially the western side. There were cracks running over it like giant snakes twisting over each other. The whole front side of the wall had only four keep towers, one of which was almost collapsing due to an old strike by some trebuchet fireball. For a fort that was supposed to protect the northern borders of the Bermanian realm, that was a shame. The previous Bermanian kings must have forgotten this castle after they made peace with the Skandivians. Even my father is to be blamed for this.

  The rusty gate squealed as the guards of Neldon raised the steel bars. Letting the cold breeze of the morning fill her lungs, Rona passed the open gate alongside Gramus. The sight of the disciplined lines of swordsmen in her reception at the courtyard and the crossbowmen atop the bulwark made her nervous, but she knew that today she had to conceal any hint of anxiety. Jerek, his soldiers, even Gramus; they all must see my strength. I'm the Queen here.

  Behind the hundreds of swordsmen was a company of fifty heavily armored knights, the lion sigil decorating their breastplates. She might be leading the deadliest warriors in the six realms of Gorania, but the true queen of Bermania should be leading the finest cavalry ever known since the creation of these lands.

  The knight leading the cavalry company advanced and took off his helm, revealing his golden mustache that was a bit lighter than his trimmed beard. "Welcome to Neldon, milady. I'm Captain Ed—"

  "You shall address your queen as 'Your Grace', Captain," Gramus put in.

  "I shall address her as such when my lord does," the captain simply countered, strangely not bothered by Gramus's gruffness.

  "Your lord will definitely do," Rona managed a smile, "Captain. . ?"

  "Edmond, milady," he said impassively. "I'm in charge of the garrison of Neldon. Please, Duke Jerek and Lord Darrison await you."

  "And my royal guards?"

  Edmond gave her mercenaries a long look. "You can only take ten men inside the castle, milady. The rest shall wait here."

  "Fine for now. Lead the way, Captain."

  While Edmond was wheeling his horse to command his knights to flank Lady Rona, Gramus leaned toward her. "This is not promising at all," he whispered.

  "Jerek's crossbowmen could finish us if they wanted," Rona pointed out. "Now keep your composure, General, and choose ten men to accompany us."

  He cursed under his breath before he turned to the Skandivian mercenaries, beckoning ten of them to advance, ordering the rest to stay. When her royal guards were ready, she followed Edmond as he rode toward the castle entrance. The footmen at the entrance hurried to help Rona down when she stopped her horse, but she gestured to them to stay away before she gracefully swung down off her saddle, giving the castle guards a slight smile as an appreciation for their concern.

  Gramus strode toward her after he dismounted, catching up with her when they reached the vestibule. "Stay close to me," he whispered again, his hand gripping the pommel of his sheathed sword. "It will start from this one." He glanced at Edmond, who walked ahead of them, preceded by a double column of thirty guards. The closer she came to Jerek, the more nervous Gramus was getting. Not out of fear, mind you. Gramus was a couple of inches less than seven feet, the monstrous war axe strapped to his back almost the same length of one of those guards. He could hack his way through Jerek's soldiers, like a gardener trimming some dry branches, and she wished he would not do that. If Duke Jerek and his vassal Darrison bent their knees, there would be no need to spill blood today.

  "I know you are worried about me." She held his massive hand, her voice low. "But you shouldn't."

  "I won't rest until I see Jerek in the flesh."

  "He is here. I'm sure of it. He wouldn't bother to prepare such a reception for us if he wasn't." She tightened her grip on his palm. “I beg you: stay calm.”

  The raging bull's broad chest rose and fell as he heaved a deep sigh. She looked him in the eye to make sure that she succeeded in stopping the volcano inside him from erupting. “I will try.” He evaded her eyes when he promised.

  The hall doors creaked as the guards pushed them open. More swordsmen were already inside, standing in two lines that flanked the way from the doors to the dais at the end of the hall. Atop the lofts on both sides stood twenty crossbowmen with their weapons slung across their backs. Their sight must have provoked her raging bull.

  “Milady.” Edmond stopped and swept a long arm toward the dais where two men were waiting for her. “Guards shall wait here.” He firmly gestured to Gramus.

  “My general goes wherever I go.” Rona gave Edmond a hard look before Gramus reacted. The captain glanced at his masters at the dais, and one of them nodded his approval. Without uttering a word, Edmond stepped aside, making way for Rona and Gramus to advance.

  The two men descended from the dais as she approached. The beefy, gray-haired
lord was Darrison; he had not changed that much since her childhood. The lord, who was one step ahead of Darrison, must be Jerek, his blue embroidered doublet and dark cloak putting the beefy lord’s plain gray doublet into shame. While only tufts of Jerek’s brown hair had grayed, his pale skinny face made him look even older than Darrison, whose cheeks were red and round. “Good Lord!” Jerek gaped, his eyes fixed on her face. “It is really her!”

  “I told you, milord.” Darrison grinned at Rona when he addressed Jerek. “The daughter of King Charlwood is still alive.”

  “Duke Jerek. Lord Darrison.” She nodded in acknowledgment. “I’m glad you have answered my call.”

  “I owe my lordship to your grandfather, Your Grace.” Darrison bowed. “That’s something I shall never forget.”

  Your Grace. She liked the sound of it.

  Jerek was still gaping at her. Whether he was astonished by her presence or impressed by her beauty—a reaction she was used to from all the men she met—the way he stared at her was distracting.

  “Duke Jerek?” She harrumphed.

  “Forgive me, Your Grace. You were an eight-year-old child when I last saw you.” Jerek had just awoken at last from her spell. “But look at you now. I feel as if I’m looking at Her Grace, your mother, may The Lord rest her soul in peace. You have her emerald eyes.”

  “You were fond of her, it seems,” suggested Rona.

  “Don’t get me wrong, Your Grace. Your mother was the most beloved queen ever in Bermania. The people of Paril still remember her kindness.”

  “Her kindness didn’t save her from her horrible fate.” Now she was the one growing uneasy, not Gramus.

  “No one can imagine the pain you have endured all these years, Your Grace.” Jerek tightened his lips.

  “Twelve years, Duke.” Rona sighed, glancing at her towering guardian. “I wouldn’t have survived them if it hadn’t been for General Gramus.”

  Darrison squinted at Gramus. “I knew your father. He was one of King Charlwood’s royal guards.”

  Gramus did not show any response to Darrison’s attempt to break the ice with him, so to spare Darrison the embarrassment Rona said, “Gramus is half Skandivian, half Bermanian. Since I remember how tall his father was, I know which half was the Bermanian one.”

  “His father was even taller. A good loyal man he was.” Darrison nodded.

  “What about you, milords?” Gramus gruffly asked the two men. “Were you as loyal to King Charlwood as my late father?”

  “They are.” Rona glared at her general, glancing at Jerek and Darrison who were struck by his question. “That’s why they are helping me reclaim my father’s throne.”

  "Then they owe you an explanation for serving the usurper, who put an end to the house of their rightful king." Gramus glowered at the two men, Jerek taking one step back. A man of Gramus's size might be intimidating even if he just said 'good morning'. Imagine him talking to you in a "slightly" hostile tone.

  "I believe we have much to discuss, Your Grace." Jerek motioned Rona toward the big seat on the dais. "Shan't we sit and talk?"

  Indeed she had a lot to discuss before Gramus might ruin this meeting. "We all need to sit, I guess." She nodded and ascended the stone steps to take Darrison's seat. While Jerek and Darrison picked two chairs next to each other below the dais, Gramus chose to stand right in front of the wooden steps. This is not what a general does, she wanted to tell him, but she did not bother for the time being.

  "Let us be clear, Duke Jerek," Rona started, "since you insisted on meeting me here in Lord Darrison's fort instead of your great city, I presume you still don't want to declare your allegiance to me."

  "There is a right time for every action, Your Grace. No one can question your right to the throne, but you cannot simply declare war on Wilander without knowing where you stand today. You should bear in mind that twelve years have passed since your father's death, so—"

  "Murder," Rona corrected. "My father and my whole family were murdered, Duke. And the coward who murdered them is sitting on my throne as we speak."

  "Wilander won't simply cede the throne, Your Grace," Jerek pointed out. "But you can persuade him if you have enough arms and blades. I presume you are not relying on my region alone to win this war."

  "You want to know who else is with me in this war, is that it?" Rona noticed the disapproving the look on Gramus's face, as if he was warning her, 'Don't tell him, Rona. Not yet.'

  “Like I just said: you need to know where you stand before starting a war. I have spent enough time with the lords of this realm, so I can tell you who else you should approach, who you should be worried about, and who you should avoid completely."

  “That would definitely help.” Rona ignored Gramus, who mouthed a ‘no’ to her. “But first, there is something I need to know.”

  “If it’s something I know of, then surely, Your Grace.”

  “Other than Wilander, who else was involved in my family’s murder?”

  Taken aback by her directness, Jerek glanced at her intimidating general. “I have no idea, Your Grace. I’m not even sure if Wilander was involved in the first place.”

  Rona drew in a long breath, hoping it might help her keep her composure. “If Duke Jerek is not sure, who else can be?”

  “Nobody, Your Grace. There is no single piece of evidence that Wilander has given the order. The cooks of the royal kitchen were interrogated, and some were even tortured, but no one said a word about Wilander.”

  Silence descended over the place for a minute while Rona was studying Jerek's face. He has nothing more to say about this, she thought.

  "Very well." She leaned her elbows on the armrests of the lord's seat. "You must be eager now to know who else I have approached to join me in this war. I wager your king Wilander is eager too."

  Jerek tilted his head. Even Gramus turned to her, confused.

  "Most of the noble houses of Ramos and a few from Karun are with me already," Rona went on. "Together with the troops of the northern fiefs and the nine hundred mercenaries I have hired from Skandivia," she was not surprised when Gramus sharply turned to her when he heard that part, "they are more than enough to persuade your loyal soldiers in Kalhom to surrender the city. If you still have any loyal soldiers, of course."

  The guards standing on both sides of the hall unsheathed their swords in unison, the crossbowmen atop the lofts aiming at one person.

  "What is going on here?" Jerek pushed to his feet, looking around in astonishment. He is more composed than I expected though.

  Rona descended the dais, patting Gramus by the arm as she went past him. Her general must be still figuring out what was happening right now. "For your own good, I hope the cell you have prepared for me befits a queen," she said to Jerek. "Because as a gesture of generosity, I'm ceding my designated place to you."

  Jerek looked from Darrison to Rona and back. "You didn't do that." The duke curled his lip in disdain. "What did she promise you, Darrison? My seat? How long do you think you can defend it with her?"

  "Speaking of your seat, Duke." She ambled toward Jerek. "I have always been wondering why Wilander chose you, why he decided to reward you with the entire northern region of Bermania."

  "This game is bigger than you, child." Jerek japed a finger at her. "Your vassals will betray you the moment Wilander's army approaches the walls of Kalhom. You will be on your own when his soldiers chain you and drag you to him in Paril. And who knows what he is going to decide about you? Mayhap he is merciful enough to spare your life and let you die old in a cell that befits a king's daughter."

  Gramus unstrapped his massive war axe. Rona gestured to him to stand down before she turned back to Jerek. "Your king's notion of mercy is different from mine. Do you want to hear about it?"

  "You still have the chance to run away with your men," said Jerek. "Flee to Skandivia, where you have been hiding all these years, before Wilander's knights find you first."

  The stubborn duke—former duke—was s
till pretending to be brave. It would be interesting to see how far he would persist. "You tell me who else is involved in my family's murder, and I will be merciful enough to let you rot in a cell that befits a traitor like you."

  "You may do with me whatever you want, but I was never a traitor." Jerek stood tall. "I had nothing to do with your family's murder."

  "Maybe you didn't betray my father." Rona tilted her head. "But you betrayed me when you decided to set a trap for me."

  Jerek swallowed when he glanced at Gramus's axe. "A clueless girl like you cannot toy with me like that. Say the word and finish this farce."

  Finish it now? She was just beginning to enjoy it.

  "Are you afraid, Jerek?" Rona gloated. "I was a child when I tested that feeling. Interesting to see how it eats through the heart of a man until it makes him cry like a little boy."

  Jerek chuckled nervously in a desperate attempt to mask his fear. "You think you can scare me with your executioner? Come on, say the word and wait for Wilander's answer to your folly."

  "Say it, Your Grace," Gramus urged her.

  Rona stared at Jerek's sheathed sword, wondering when the trapped duke might use it. "No."

  Jerek inhaled deeply, his breath coupled with a smile of hope slipping over his face. "You seem to have some reason after all."

  "Reason? Not at all." Recalling all her sparring sessions with Gramus, Rona drew her sword and plunged it into Jerek's belly. She felt sorry for ruining his fine outfit though. That embroidered silk doublet was a piece of art.

  Grunting, Jerek went down on his knees, her sword still stuck in his bleeding belly. "I told you he would bend the knee," she said to Gramus.

  3. THE CARAVAN GUARD

  His rattling armor drew the attention of all attendants of the crammed inn, silence reigning over the place as he made his way through until he reached the innkeeper. He dropped his helm on the counter with a thud, the balding innkeeper staring at him in awe.

  "Have we met before?" he coldly asked the astounded innkeeper. From the scrape of chair legs against the floor and the hurried footsteps behind him, he could tell that half the inn attendants were leaving.