The Guardian by Angus Wells Read Free Book Online Page A

streets below all filled with frightened folk come to Chorym in search of refuge I knew they’d not find. They’d know fear, and deprivation; they’d know the magicks of the Vachyn sorcerer, and the terror of catapults hurling balefire. The song of arrows and the clatter of javelins.
    I felt sorry for them. It was easier for me: I was a soldier. I had sworn my blade to Andur, and therefore to Ryadne—and through them to Ellyn—so I could accept the duty that the king and queen had set upon me. I might not like it—certainly I did not look forward with any joy to that journey I must take with the grumbling Ellyn—but these folk had no sworn duty. They were only citizens and farmers, traders and merchants: plain, honest folk who looked only to till their fields or tend their flocks or sell their wares.Not fight and starve and suffer the bolts of a Vachyn sorcerer and the terrors of siege.
    I dressed and went to find my breakfast, which I ate alone. I assumed Ryadne was with Ellyn, likely locked in further dispute, and melancholy settled on me. I had lost my sworn liege and now must desert his queen while she faced the horrors of siege, and most likely her own death. I was unsure where I should take Ellyn. I knew nothing of the coastal lands, and wondered if the Sea Kings would welcome us or take us prisoner. I could not go to my own clan, nor be certain of the Dur’s welcome. Naban and Serian would likely seize Ellyn as a pawn to hold against either Chaldor or Danant, and to reach the Styge we must traverse the Barrens. Worse, Ryadne had spoken of Ellyn’s talent burgeoning, and whilst I’d accept that magic if it were used on Chaldor’s behalf, I could not imagine the child using it well. It seemed to me that we must become outlaws, and when—as I was sure he eventually would—Talan learned of Ellyn’s flight, he’d send hunters after us. I wondered what hunters a Vachyn sorcerer might create with his conjuries.
    By the time I finished eating I was in dour mood, so I went to find the armories.
    My sword was cleaned of old blood and polished and given such an edge as it had not known since the war began. I was offered a splendid scabbard that I rejected in favor of my own old, worn sheath. We should be traveling incognito, I thought, and I’d not draw attention to us with any overly fine trappings.
    I said as much to Ryadne when she found me, and she agreed, kitting me in plain but sturdy gear—a shirt or two of stout linen; good leathern breeches and durable boots; a tunic of cloth and metal sewn together and lined with silk so that arrows might be easier withdrawn; undergarments; and a good, warm cloak. She offered me the pick of the palace stables, and I selected a bay mare. She was deep of chest and long in the leg, and she’d the look of a runner—speed and stamina combined.
    “Ellyn will want her favorite” Ryadne advised me, indicating a second mare whose coat was so white as to shine.
    The horse was sound, but also very noticeable; I recognized her immediately. I shook my head and told the queen, “Favorite or no, she must ride another—this beauty’s too well known.”
    “She’ll argue,” Ryadne said.
    I looked at her. She smiled and said, “Choose her another then, Gailard.”
    I picked out a dark chestnut mare the same size as my own.
    “What else shall you need?” Ryadne asked.
    “A horse bow,” I told her, “and a stock of arrows; provisions; coin; bedrolls.” I thought of the season. The summer aged and likely by the time we got to wherever we were going the nights would grow cold. “A tent. No!
Two
tents.” I could not imagine sharing a single bivouac with Ellyn.
    “You’ll want a packhorse?” Ryadne asked.
    I shook my head. “We’ll travel light. What we can’t carry between us we’ll forage, or buy.” I began to feel better. This was akin to planning a campaign and I felt on firmer ground. “And Ellyn must dress plain. No fancy trappings; no jewels or finery. She must