The Radiant War

Chapter 25b

     They stood there like that as the telegraph operator continued sending the message, and then a longer time passed as they waited for a reply. Finally, the machine began clacking and the operator began writing it down, one letter at a time. “We will comply, so long as you guarantee that no harm is done to my daughter,” said Nilon at last, reading from the pad. “It will take time to bring the General here. We will have to arrange a ceasefire, then send a messenger. It may take several hours.”

     Nilon looked at the clock on the wall. It was nine fifteen in the morning. It would be around half past ten in Marboll. He wrote another message on the note pad and handed it to the operator. ‘You have six hours before we curse your daughter half way back. If you have not surrendered by dawn tomorrow, we will curse her the rest of the way back.’

     He then gestured to the guard, who released Ardria’s hand. The fear returned in a rush as the parent bond was broken, making her stagger back, gasping, close to panic. An impulse almost made her bolt for the door. To just run, all pride and dignity forgotten. It took a tremendous effort of will to overcome it. There was no safety out there. There was no escape. She felt her heart hammering in her chest and knew there was the wild look of a trapped animal in her eyes.

     She forced herself to look at the King, to meet his unsympathetic gaze and found that, to her surprise, there was sympathy there. Sympathy and a look of admiration, as if he knew the courage and strength it had taken to remain in control of herself. Then he nodded to her, the acknowledgement of an equal. “A Princess indeed,” he said, more to himself than to her.

     “We're done here for now,” he then said. “Return the Princess to her quarters, and let me know the moment we get any word from Marboll.”

     Both the guards nodded, and then the Princess walked in stately dignity to the door before the guard had an excuse to lay a hand on her again.

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     King Leothan stared at the telegraph machine as if it was a mad dog that had just bitten him. “There are going to be code words,” he said. “So they know they really are talking to the people they think they are. I don't suppose their CO was among the prisoners we took.”

     “I’ll check,” said Amberley, “But I don't think we’re going to be that lucky. And even if we are, it'll probably take a lot longer than six hours to get the codes out of him.”

     “So the moment we start talking, they’re going to know I'm not the Carrow General.” He looked up at the clock. “That means the Brigadier's got six hours to rescue her.”

     “He doesn’t know there’s a deadline. We don't even know if he’s in the city at all.”

     “We know he wasn't with her when she entered the city. He wasn't killed with the rest of her escort.” He picked up the notepad the telegraph operator had recorded the conversation on, read back what Ardria had said to him. “Everyone who came with me from Marboll is dead,” he read back. “She's telling us the Brigadier's not dead, and he won't need a deadline. He’ll want to get her out of there as quickly as possible. He may already be on his way to her.”

     There was sympathy and understanding on Amberley's face, though, which the Feld Marshall immediately hid, replacing it with a carefully neutral look. Right, thought the King. It was a father's love and fear for his daughter that was talking. Amberley knows the truth, though. He knows what a long shot it is.

     Amberley knew the King had guessed his thoughts and looked uncomfortable. “I'll go take a look at the prisoners,” he said. “You never know, we might have gotten lucky.” The King nodded and he turned to go.