CHAPTER EIGHT
Bloodlines

DARINGTON…..The critical position of Darington between Galvenia and the Zion Empire, and the accidents of its geography - particularly the fact that it lies adjacent to the Corridor of Arustus, one of the few openings onto the coastline in what is otherwise hilly or rocky terrain – has made it a crucial military outpost in the past, though it has been demilitarized under the current regime. Adding to its strategic appeal is the fact that, on its other three sides, it is surrounded by dense woods, the so-called Glades of Linois, which are noted for their rich flora and fauna….

- ENCYCLOPEDIA GALVENICA, 24th Edition, C.Y. 347

"Where am I?" Princess Carranya said, opening her eyes. The sour smell of Shagath Worm oil was still in her nostrils, and all she could see around her was woodland and tall trees. She tried to stand, and realized that she was lying on a simple cot, covered by a rough blanket, inside a tent. Two men were looking at her, but neither seemed particularly hostile.

"Oh, this is a quiet, romantic spot," one of the men replied. "Good morning, Princess. I trust you had a refreshing little nap."

"I would appreciate a more precise answer," she retorted. "And where is Rochelle? Did you harm her?"

"Lady Anton?" The second man, tall and yellow-haired like his friend, but with a stronger face and jaw, beamed at her. "As far as I know, she was left unharmed, though she did keep screaming quite a bit." He laughed – a deep, friendly laugh, one that Carranya found appealing despite the fact that these men were, to all appearances, her abductors. "I'm glad you're not being hysterical, Princess."

"What good would that do?" Carranya replied, trying hard to stifle the thoughts that rose within her. Strangely, her main concern was not her safety – for she was clearly not in immediate danger – but the fact that she had, somehow, been delivered from her approaching marriage.

"I see Galvenia has a very sensible future monarch," the first man replied. "Now, let me explain the situation, Princess. We are members of the Zion Special Forces. King Arlbert, your father, has deeply offended our Council of Viceroys by sending several of his men to help the Commonwealth in Itaria, with the result that our forces there are not having an easy life. As a result, he has instructed us to arrange for, shall we say, a little vacation for you."

Carranya shivered. "But do you not realize that such an act will only further strain the alliance between our nations? Why does the Emperor choose such an undignified way to prove his point?" she said quietly.

"Oh, the Emperor's a dead man clinging to his last few breaths," the second man said ruefully. "And unfortunately, with no clear lineal descendant – his daughter, unlike you, cannot inherit – we're facing a pretty mess there. Three factions of nobles are fighting over the succession, but none of them has a rock-solid claim. The Council of Viceroys is currently the de facto ruler, as per the provisions of Linois' Constitution, and if they tell us to be undignified, we have to obey. It's nothing personal, Princess. I realize we're robbing you of the romance of a late-spring wedding, but if your father is reasonable, we'll release you as soon as possible."

"I presume you want him to withdraw his men from the Commonwealth Forces," Carranya said. "Is there anything else you want him to do?"

"Yes, in fact, we would like it if those same forces fought on our side, and not against us," the first agent replied. "But I'll leave the formal request to the Council. For the moment, Princess, enjoy your stay here. Do not try to escape, because these woods are a bigger maze than the one in your Palace Gardens, and the Garun wolf enjoys prowling around in packs at night. Stay close to camp, and you'll have no trouble."

"How kind of you," Carranya replied ironically. "I see I am in good hands."

She yawned, and felt her limbs give way under her.

"Oh, that's just the Shagath oil," the second man apologized. "Rest a little more, Princess, and maybe we can continue this discussion a little later."

Carranya would have protested, but she was too weary to do so. She lay down and covered herself with the blanket, closing her eyes, with just one thought coming to her mind as she fell asleep.

Ryan, she thought. Ryan, save me…

xxx

"Bloody Zion!" David Mendelson swore, entering the dining-room and throwing a newspaper down on the table. "Can't they leave us alone? Aren't Itaria and the Varald enough for them?"

"David," Leah said sternly, "don't swear in front of women, especially noblewomen like your niece and her mother."

"What happened, Uncle David?" Lavie asked, concerned by the worried look on his face.

"Some clowns just blew up a Commonwealth trade office in Jadeed," he said, "and the whole incident is quite mysterious. A few hours after the bombing, a man was found dead near the Zion embassy. He seemed to have died of electrical burns, and he was carrying identification papers that were obviously faked."

"Hmm," Sigmund said, sipping his black tea – his doctors were keeping him on a careful diet, much to his chagrin. "That sounds like Almonth Jackass and his War Pigeons, as my pater used to call them. Attacking Commonwealth posts was their style."

Lavie giggled. "Very funny, Daddy," she replied.

"Electrical burns?" Leah shook her head. "I remember once getting a mild shock from a toaster that David bought at Jadeed. It wasn't very pleasant."

"I presume that the dead man is the suspect," Sigmund said. "But why blame the Zion? For all we know, the man could be a discontented pro-Varaldian – there are some of them in your country, David – and he sees the Zion and Commonwealth as enemies. Perhaps he was going to bomb the embassy."

"Ah, Sigmund, you Galvenians are clever, but there are some things that we learn naturally, living at Indernes," David replied. "A man doesn't die of electrocution that easily, and certainly not in an open street. The body was still warm when the Jadeed police found him. Mark my words, it was thunder."

"You mean lightning, surely," Emily said. "But how could he be struck by lightning in such warm weather?"

"Ah, you Galvenians," David said with an indulgent smile. "I wasn't referring to the weather, Emily. I was referring to magic."

"Magic?" Lavie replied, her eyes open wide. "You mean, like the Journeymen and stuff?"

"Indernes was where the Journeymen were cut down to a man – and that's an interesting story in itself, Lavie," Leah said. "Don't get David on the topic, though, or he won't stop."

"Ryan used to tell me about the Journeymen," Lavie went on, colouring a little. "About Nealus Hessen, and Kaleb, and Samath the traitor. I used to love hearing those stories when we were little."

"Wait a minute." Sigmund frowned. "You're telling me the Zion sent a mage to blow up a Commonwealth installation, and then killed him because, as bandits say, dead men tell no tales?"

"Well, the Zion are the only ones with a grudge against the Commonwealth right now," David said, shrugging his shoulders. "Seek those whom the crime profits, as the detectives say. And besides, after abducting your Princess, I wouldn't put anything past the Zion."

"That was terrible," Emily said. "Poor Queen. She's had an unfortunate life, and her only child meant a lot to her. But we still have no word if the Zion are responsible."

"Well, it's only been three days since the news of her disappearance broke," David retorted. "The truth will come out soon."

xxx

Ryan stood on the deck of the ship, looking out at the sea. It was perhaps the only thing that could calm him at the moment. His thoughts were a racing jumble.

Mike is dead.

Half of my men are dead.

Carranya is going to marry some Duke whom she doesn't even love.

She's been kidnapped.

Lavie's dad has been kicked out of Galvenia.

Itaria still burns.

And they're calling me back to Lorean now? Life is crazy. The world's gone crazy.

Suddenly, he smiled. And to think that just a year ago, the most important thing to me was getting back together with Marianne. How far away that all seems now.

The Commonwealth ship would dock at Davenport for a brief while, leaving him and a few of his men – all Galvenians – there. In a week, he would be home.

In a week, anything could happen.

Carranya could be dead. Or rescued, and married. I won't think about it….I won't think about it.

"Ryan," one of the sailors called out, "there's a dispatch for you; we just received it over the radio. Could you come down to the Captain's office and collect it?"

"Sure thing," Ryan replied, welcoming the intrusion. In a few minutes, he was below decks in Captain North's office.

"Good morning, Second Lieutenant," North said. He was a tall, lean sailor who was seldom without his cloak, even in warm weather, and he wore the Galvenian colours proudly on his wrist. "Looks like you're going to see some action again."

"Really?" Ryan took the message from him and read it.

Second Lieutenant Eramond

Proceed directly to Lorean for briefing with Trask with all your men
Prepare for rescue mission
Your furlough is cancelled as time is of the essence

Major Andrews – Naval Command

"Looks like serious business," Captain North observed. "We'll try to get you and your boys home as soon as possible."

Ryan read the message once more, stunned by its implications.

Carranya? he thought. Infinity, if you exist, please let it be her. Please let me be of service to her again…

xxx

"Are we agreed on the plan, Your Majesty?" Sir Cornelius said. "I repeat, we will only proceed with your approval. After all, the future of the Kingdom is at stake."

"Fairfax, for once, I am willing to listen," Arlbert said glumly. "Somehow, nothing, not even being the King, can console me over the loss of my child. Carranya – I remember her as a little mite, running around the Palace halls until those two sourpusses, my wife and the Anton harpy, put an end to that. She was such a happy child, Fairfax. What changed?" He shook his head helplessly. Though still the same imposing figure, much of his bluster had gone, and he seemed to have aged several years in the past week.

Fairfax and Sheffield, looking at their crestfallen King, wisely decided to remain silent.

"At any rate, Fairfax," Arlbert went on, "once she returns, we will postpone those famous nuptials. If what you tell me about Marksmith's men is true, I would not trust the man himself – simpering, namby-pamby fool that he is. My Carranya is much too good for him. Where do we stand on the rescue?"

"After receiving the coded missive from the Zion, informing us that they had the Princess and threatening us with the worst consequences if we went public," Sheffield said soberly, "we asked them for two weeks' time to recall our soldiers – and said that we would withdraw them from the CSF, reinstate them to the Royal Army, and send them to Darington as a gesture of goodwill, to join the Zion on the frontier. They have agreed to this."

"The two weeks are nearly over, Sheffield," Arlbert said irritably. "Is that all your famous 'plan' amounts to? Capitulating meekly? By King Richard, first we gave them Darington – now, must our Army be theirs to toy with?"

"Let me explain, Sire," Fairfax replied. "We will indeed send the men to Darington – they are arriving in three days, in fact. However, not all of them will travel the usual way. We will send, say, eighty of them, with a note that the remaining twenty are injured and need to convalesce."

"And?"

"The remaining twenty, Sire, will approach Darington through the hills, and attempt to liberate the Princess. She is being held at Linois' Glade, quite close to the town itself."

"Linois' Glade? Confound it, Fairfax," Arlbert thundered, "how do you know this?"

"Your Majesty," Sheffield said slyly, "surely you know that women can either be indiscreet, or cause the men smitten with them to be indiscreet. That is all I can say on the matter."

Arlbert laughed. "By Prince Derren, Sheffield," he replied, "that is a good one. Who are these twenty men?"

"We were thinking of using Second Lieutenant Eramond, Sire," Fairfax replied. "When it comes to saving Carranya, he seems to be a lucky man."

"Eramond? Oh, very clever, Fairfax," Arlbert said, his customary good humour rapidly returning. "Perhaps after that we could ask him and his men to give Marksmith a little present from me." He chuckled. "Very well, men, do as you have said. Just make sure Eramond does not grow too big for his boots, as Sir Prescott did."

"He is a commoner, Sire," Fairfax reassured him. "There is no danger of that happening."

xxx

"My, Lavie, haven't you finished school?" her Aunt Leah said, noticing Lavie's nose buried in a book, her face creased with concentration. "Are you planning to go on to University, now? Father would be so proud of you. He was always in favour of higher education for women, and he's the one who allowed me to go to art school." She was dressed in a formal coat and skirt, and was carrying a small cloth bag with her.

"Um, I'm not sure about that, Auntie," Lavie replied, looking up from her book with a rather embarrassed expression. "I was just reading this book that Uncle David gave me about the Journeymen."

"Oh, is that it? If you read more of that, Lavie, you'll become an honourary citizen of Indernes! They're crazy about Journeymen lore here. But I must say, you've become a lot quieter after you received that parcel from your grandmother's lawyers. What was it?"

"Oh, books and clothes," Lavie replied with a smile. "She'd always wanted to leave me some of her old stuff, because I loved looking at it when I'd visit her."

"That's nice," Leah replied. "I'd love to talk a little more, Lavie, but I have a lecture at the Art School in a little over an hour, so I have to run! I should be back in time for tea. Enjoy yourself, and don't get too serious, child. We love you just the way you are."

"Thanks, Auntie," Lavie replied, waving to her as she left, then opening the book again to reveal a second, smaller book within it. It was, in fact, a slim journal covered in black leather, written in a large but precise hand.

In her mind, she recalled the words of the note that had accompanied the journal – words she now knew by heart.

My dearest Lavie,

This was your grandfather's. He wanted me to leave it to a suitable person, if the things it spoke of had not yet come to pass by the time of his death. I hate to place a burden on you, sweetie, but I believe you'll be strong enough to bear it. I hesitated a long time before fixing on you, but I cannot trust the other. Once you understand it, you will know what to do.

Your loving grandmother.

The journal made little sense to her, as it was largely written in short, often incomplete sentences, with several abbreviations and dates often written in a different colour. However, one page was different from the rest. By accident or design, it was at the centre of the book, and it seemed to depict a series of events – though each person was represented by an abbreviation, as follows:

L.A m. C.K. c.y. 157 iss. M.A., C.A., J.A.

C.A. m. M.G. c.y. 190 (A - E) iss. P.A., U.A., H.A.

M.L. m. U.A. c.y. 219 iss. G.L., D.L.

P.A. m. P.T. c.y. 220 iss. G.A., N.A.

G.A. m. J.F. c.y. 245 iss. T.A.

T.A. m. ? c.y. 268 iss. ?

T.A. m. S.R. c.y. 279 iss. ?

? m. ? c.y. ? (the end of all we know)

(God help the Journeymen)

"It makes sense, but only a little," Lavie said to herself. "The C.Y.s must be dates – Commonwealth years. Something happened in those years – 157, 190, 219, 220, 243, 268 and 279. I hope it's nothing to do with mathematics, I'm terrible at it!"

She laughed. "Let me try this…" Taking a sheet of paper, she began to write.

This clearly has something to do with the Journeymen. According to Uncle David's book, they all died out in C.Y. 156, but Granddaddy's list begins a year after that. That must mean something.

She paused, biting her lip. A memory from a high school visit to the Hall of Heroes, where the genealogy of the Lionheart kings was displayed as an aide-memoire to students and docents, came to her, and she started to write quickly.

If I'm reading this correctly, 'm.' is 'married', 'iss.' means 'issues'. Children, that is! This is a family tree. It begins with someone called L.A., who married someone named C.K. In the family tree I saw at the museum, the guy's name comes first, the girl's second. Who is this L.A. guy? Is he the last of the Journeymen? According to Uncle David's book, that's not possible. Unless the book is missing out on something.

Let's look at the others. In 190, L.A.'s son C.A. got married…

Suddenly, a sense of familiarity struck her.

G.L. Gerald Lancaster. Granddaddy was born in 220. If that's right, his parents were U.A and M.L – and he had a brother or sister with the initials D.L. I must check that with Mom. But it's not our family tree: I don't see Mom's initials, or mine, anywhere in that list!

And what does 'A-E' mean? A change of name? Some sort of code?

She put the paper down and turned back to her uncle's book, then stared at the title page, open-mouthed and trembling.

The Story of the Journeymen
by
Linus Aramondrius, Doctor of Philosophy
Translated from the Old Galvenian by Professor Edgar Scott, King's College, Galvenia.

"L.A.," she whispered. "Linus Aramondrius. He wrote the history of the Journeymen. Was he a Journeyman too? He couldn't have married a Journeyman, that's ridiculous! And who's C.K., then?" She smiled, and shut the book.

"I'll come back to it later," she said softly. "Gran, I know this must be important, but I need a little time. And maybe some help."

xxx

"Juno has left," Jacob Lugner said, crossing his arms and stretching out his legs. "Infinity, it's good to be on the surface for a change."

"Even if it's just an inn in Alton," Jason replied. "Do you think they'll try any more monkey-tricks like they did in the marsh last year?"

"I doubt it, brother," Lugner said soberly. "Our adversaries cannot be such great fools. They conducted a careful test, a proof of principle if you will, as all scientists do. Besides, why use valuable resources and energies when men will do just as well?"

"You are right, Jacob," said Jason, "but still – I am worried. First, whether Juno will get there first. Second, given the complications introduced by Fairfax, whether he will be too distracted to complete his mission. And third, whether these attacks on Commonwealth outposts are part of their design, or simply a coincidence."

"It cannot be a coincidence," Lugner said firmly.

"But why use such unstable elements? After taking the trouble to drive them underground in 253, when they violated their first contract, why use them again?"

"Because this time is – to use a trite phrase – the right time. Things are not what they were in 253, and they are weak enough not to try any foolish betrayals. Besides, they are probably only a minor part of his plan, and he has ways to deal with traitors – painful ways. You read the reports of the dead man in Jadeed, did you not?"

"Thunder…" Jason shivered. "I hope they do not get to Juno. He is hot-headed and blinded by his desire for vengeance. He will suffer far worse things at their hands; they will use him mercilessly, and then crush him. Tell me, brother, what if Juno eliminates…"

"I doubt it will come to that," Lugner replied. "And even if he does, what of it? We want him on our side, or out of action. Preferably the first, when the right moment arises – but if it has to be the latter, brother, do not worry. We are not Zion or Galvenian kings, and in our dynasty, there is no need for legitimacy."

"You are right as always, Jacob," Jason said, looking with admiration at Lugner. "Let us keep our peace."

xxx

"I do not care what your Council says," Sir Prescott said firmly. "Our King has already committed more troops into our hands, but rest assured that I will dissuade him from doing so if this is your response. Either fight this war properly, or sue for peace."

General Okio glared at the young man in front of him. "Speak respectfully to your elders, Sir Prescott," he said impatiently.

"Speak for yourself, General," Sir Prescott replied coolly. "My Rough Riders are willing to fight to the finish, but your men are putting up a half-hearted resistance. Why did we not make a more concerted effort to recapture the garrison at Sylvania? Even a fool could see that if we could control that point, we could seriously hamper the Varald incursion on the western flank."

Okio flushed, for the young Galvenian's criticism – though couched in deliberately offensive terms – was fair. "Sir Prescott," he said slowly, "you are a Galvenian, and you do not understand the way we Zion fight. We will soon receive more reinforcements from the capital, as well as from your King. The Zion do not believe in taking undue risks."

"That's a nice way of saying that you fight like Itarian priests," Sir Prescott sneered. "And while we're on the topic, what is this ridiculous story I hear about the Crown Princess?"

"What story?" Okio said, looking acutely embarrassed.

"That your Special Service, or whatever it is called, had a hand in capturing her," Prescott said, with a steely look at the Zion General. "Have you forgotten the lessons of your Lord Geraud so soon?"

"I know nothing of this," General Okio said stiffly.

"Oh, deny it if you must," Prescott said with a cold smile. "But my Rough Riders can drink your Tactical Forces under the table, and I'm afraid your boys are rather indiscreet when they're in their cups. Now, listen to me, Okio. If I, Sir Prescott T. Chuselwock, do not receive a clear account of this, and a promise that the Princess will be released, you will have to fight without our two thousand troops. Is that clear?"

"You have no right to…." Okio said, outraged.

"On the frontier, no one can hear you bluster, General," Prescott said calmly. "If you want us to play cricket with you, release the Princess."

"What is she to you? Let the King ask for her," Okio retorted feebly.

"I am a loyal Galvenian," Sir Prescott said, "and even a military alliance does not change that. Think about what I have said, Okio, for the Varald are regrouping rapidly."

xxx

It was two days later that Lavie Regale received the help she sought.

"Trouble, Lavie?" David Mendelson said, coming into the room, his smock covered with fine dust from a sculpture he had been working on. "Is my book boring you?" He laughed.

Lavie hesitated for a moment, then made up her mind.

"Umm, Uncle David – can you keep a secret?"she said. "I've got this puzzle I need to solve, and I think it's about the Journeymen."

David sat down beside her. "Now, tell me all about it," he said kindly. "I love puzzles, and besides, there's little I don't know about the Journeymen – at least not since a feudal lord from Derna asked me for a portrait of Kaleb, and I ended up studying the Order to get some background."

Lavie handed him the book. David looked at it, turned pale, and let out a strangled cry.

"Where – did you find this, child?" he said, in a voice that was nearly a croak.

"Uncle David?" Lavie looked at him with horror. "Are you all right?"

"Deserts of Ghetz!" David exclaimed. "To think that the historians of Indernes have been searching for this for over a century, and a young girl who happens to be my niece should possess it. Lavie, can you keep a secret? Have you told your parents about this?"

"Not yet," Lavie admitted. "What's it all about?"

"Lavie," David said firmly, "I'm going to take you with me to an old man in the city, someone who can help you a lot more than I can. But I must warn you, child, that you're dealing with some pretty dangerous and valuable information. Tell your parents about this if you must – once we get back, of course. I'm not saying this to frighten you, but because you're here under my protection and I don't want you to get hurt. Do you trust me?"

Lavie looked at him and nodded quietly. "I do, Uncle David."

"Then let's get going," David said, reaching for his cloak from a stand. "Get your hat, and I'll take you there in my car."

Placing the book inside her pocket, Lavie followed her uncle out of the house.

xxx

Carranya got up, walked out of her tent, and looked at the setting sun. The week had passed uneventfully – her captors were unduly kind, and provided her with food, reading material, and even regular changes of clothing. They had clearly been instructed to take good care of her.

There was even freedom of a sort – she was allowed to roam around the woods, but only within a limited radius, which was surrounded by guards. The forest creatures and birds held few terrors for her, and her one encounter with a wolf had ended in an inglorious retreat for the predator, struck by one of her light-based attacks.

She had contemplated fighting her way out, but thought better of it. On one occasion, she had tentatively sent a small beam of light towards a sleeping guard – enough to stun, but not to hurt – but found it harmlessly deflected.

It stands to reason, she thought. They're Zionese, and they know more about magic than I ever will. Not to forget that until that night on the Paradiso, I'd kept my skills dormant for years – all because of….because of….

She shivered. No, I won't think of it.

Suddenly, she was aware of a rustling sound in the bushes nearby, and stood frozen in her position. Then there was an eerie silence, and she looked around, searching for anything out of the ordinary. She was about to abandon her search when he appeared. A man in a dark cloak – barely a boy – moving slowly, the blade of his sword glowing a deep red.

Carranya opened her mouth to speak, but the man raised his hand, and before she knew it, he was standing in front of her. He lowered his hood, revealing a determined, youthful face, with spiky dark hair growing out at improbable angles.

"Wh –" she began, but the man motioned to her to remain silent.

"Listen to me, Princess," he hissed. "I'm working with Galvenian Intelligence. A few days from now, a group of men dressed in Galvenian Army uniforms will cross the hills and enter this forest. They will rescue you, and your captors will put up very little resistance."

"What do you mean?" Carranya whispered, shocked.

"They are playing a clever game," he went on. "They will take you up to Checkpoint Alpha, and once they are there, they have nefarious designs on you. Whether these involve staging your death, or simply taking you to another part of the Empire, we are unsure. But when these men come, go with them. My men and I will be waiting near the exit of Linois' Glade, and we will bring you back to your father and mother safely."

"How – how do I know that this is true?" Carranya replied, in an unsteady voice.

"When you have some free time, Princess," he said, "look at this. It may give you – a fresh perspective on certain things." He handed her a small object, the size of a large marble. It took on a green hue in the setting sun.

"What…" Carranya began, but the man – with a quick bow – disappeared again into the bushes, leaving her confused, the Memory Crystal still lighting her face with its leaf-green glow.

xxx

Crossing the last of the hill ranges that separated him from Darington and the woods around it, Ryan found himself thinking of his mentor, Colonel Whitworth.

I haven't even had time to mourn him properly, he thought, his expression hardening. I knew he had to go one day – Dad and I were the only ones he told – but I wish I could've seen him one last time.

"Do we move on, Ryan?" Sergeant Carpenter said, looking at the dark expanse of woods at the feet – so far, and yet so deceptively close to them. "Or do we set up camp for the night?"

"Let's move on," Ryan said, "provided everyone's up to it. Our best chance to catch them on the back foot is to use every edge that Nature gives us. Remember, these are Zion agents, and they may try to use magic weapons."

"We are," Carpenter replied, for he was a staunch Royalist, who had served in the Palace Guards before being transferred to the Army. "You can count on all of us."

Ryan, Whitworth had said to him once, it's not who your father or your mother are that determines the life you will lead. It's your own choices, what what? You're not destined to be a great soldier because your Grandpa was, nor are you destined to ride a desk if that's what your father is. It's in your hands, my boy. Win with pride, but if you lose, accept defeat. Fight with honour.

I wonder what he'd say if I told him about the Princess, Ryan mused, as they continued to march on. Colonel, what you said may hold good for ordinary people – commoners like you and me. But what about Royalty and nobles? They aren't as free as we are. They have to live a certain way, even marry a certain person, for reasons that have nothing to do with them.

Marriage? Ryan could imagine the Colonel's trademark snort. Don't discuss all that namby-pamby stuff with me, boy. You are a man. Life is an adventure, a challenge! Not one of those dreadful ten-cent novels for girls.

Whitworth had never married – the genetic disease that claimed his life had dissuaded him from doing so, though he had certainly been a heart-throb in his younger days. Or at least, that's what Grandpa told me. Henrik had asked him about it once.

That's a good question, Henrik, he had answered, and then proceeded to thrash him thoroughly in a training match. As Henrik sat on a bench, recovering, Whitworth had picked up the the topic again.

There are many ways in which a man can leave behind a worthy posterity, Henrik. Marriage and family are just one of them. You are my legacy – you, Ryan, and all the other trainees who bother to bring your brains and your swords to this Gymnasium. I wouldn't have it any other way, what what? Besides, not all women are good for you, me boy. Some of them can turn your head.

Henrik had laughed, and at that moment, his father had walked in, carrying a suitcase.

Ah, good morning, Mr. Delivery Services, Whitworth had said. I was just telling Henrik not to trust women too far, what what? You'd know a thing about that, Theodore, I presume. He had laughed loudly.

Theodore had replied with an embarrassed smile, before opening the suitcase to hand Whitworth a series of bond papers. As well he might! The Colonel's a great kidder. There's no one more trustworthy than Mum, even if her cooking is…er…strange at times. And Dad knows that as well as I do! Or maybe the Colonel's eaten Mum's cooking, and this was his little jab at her!

He paused as his troop began the descent down the steep slope that would lead them to Darington.

This is it, he thought. After a painful climb down, the men assembled near a clump of oak trees. They could spot two Zion guards near the path that led into the glade, and a fire burning nearby.

"Just two of them," Carpenter whispered. "No radio signals. Shall we have a go at it?"

"Never give up," Ryan said, and smiled. "Never surrender. We're going in. For Galvenia, and for the Princess. Benwick, keep half the men with you. Carpenter and I will lead the first raid. If we're not out in an hour, join the show"

"Roger, Ryan," Sergeant Benwick replied. "This ought to be easy."

xxx