Severed Souls (Sword of Truth 14)

35

As Ludwig walked his horse between the gates and into the cobblestone square outside the Fajin garrison he got his first close glimpse of the citadel higher up above them. Erika rode beside him, half a length behind, his ever-present protection. For now, his only protection. He would soon have more.

He was pleased to see that the troops had been alerted to his approach and had already set up massive defensive positions. That was the kind of response he would want to defend himself against non-gifted threats.

Since these men knew him, it was a rather respectful show of arms. The soldiers were all out in the open, standing in formation. The slick, wet cobblestone reflected the neat array of lances held out at a uniform angle, but with their butts resting on the ground. It was a cautious defensive line, but he was at least glad to see that they were trusting of no one, not even the bishop’s abbot, probably the highest-ranking person in Fajin Province after the bishop himself.

Of course, Hannis Arc never favored other people holding positions of power. Hannis Arc viewed his talents as sufficient to rule Fajin Province without the need of other high-ranking officials. He thought such powerful people might cause him trouble. He tolerated his abbot because Ludwig was smart enough to make himself seem insignificant.

To either side as they rode in, men in brown tunics lined the way into the square. In the square beyond the men lining the road were formations of men set in ranks at an angle designed to funnel the visitors to a central point of the square.

The men in the front row of those ranks wore chain mail. Their swords remained sheathed but at the ready. The second row of men behind them held the angled lances. On one knee in front of the men in chain mail were the archers, arrows nocked but strings not drawn back.

All of the preparations were protective stances, ready but not openly threatening or aggressive to the visitor. The formations were also designed to place the visitors in the center of the square where they could swiftly be surrounded if necessary, with any route of escape cut off.

It was also meant to be a clear signal that any unwelcome actions—from anyone—would not be tolerated.

Officers blocked the open center of the funnel formation leading to the road beyond that went the rest of the way up to the citadel. Since the officers knew him, they stood openly in the key position to block him. They probably thought it would be better if commanding officers turned him away, rather than a lowly foot soldier. Had it been a threat rather than Bishop Arc’s abbot, the opening would be totally closed off and the officers would likely have been somewhere in the rear, directing the men at turning away or eliminating the threat.

Beyond the ranks of soldiers in the square, tiered terraces, each with shaggy olive trees, stepped up the rising hillside toward the grounds around the citadel at the top. It was an attempt at an imposing entrance to the seat of power in the sorry little land of Fajin Province. These men were protecting that pathetic seat of power, as if it were a great prize.

Ludwig smiled. In this case, it just so happened that from now on it was going to be just that.

The four men of rank stood almost shoulder-to-shoulder blocking the opening flanked by men with lances, swords, and bows at the ready. Since Bishop Arc had likely left instructions that no one was to enter the citadel in his absence, these men intended to guard the crown jewel of Saavedra.

Ludwig sighed inwardly.

Bishop Arc had, of course, never considered his abbot to be anything other than his loyal minion. No one, really, other than those from whom he gained prophecy, considered Ludwig to be at all dangerous. It was not until after Hannis Arc had left the citadel that he came to see Ludwig as a threat and sent half people to assassinate him. That had been a mistake, because Hannis Arc had not counted on Richard Rahl showing up.

Hannis Arc expected his loyal abbot to carry out his duties, but he never paid much attention to how he accomplished those duties. Hannis Arc assumed that his abbot brought gifted people and some of the cunning folk to the abbey to investigate any prophecy about which they might have knowledge. The bishop never really knew how his abbot collected such a wealth of prophecy, or the work involved, or the talent it had taken. Hannis Arc never realized the powers that Ludwig Dreier possessed.

No one, really, with the exception of those he worked closely with, such as Erika, had any idea of the abilities Ludwig Dreier kept hidden. Ludwig had never trumpeted his talents. He never thought it was a good idea to be boastful and show off, the way Hannis Arc did.

Ludwig’s abilities were his own business. He used them as necessary without drawing attention to himself.

Because of that, few people had ever had any real understanding of the powers he wielded.

He thought that it was about time they started to come to understand.

Ludwig and Erika could, of course, have simply charged their horses through the four officers, but that would have brought an obnoxious hail of arrows at their backs. Ludwig could have dealt with those, but it would not have served to further his goal to shape choices. These men would prove useful once he established the new order of things in Fajin Province.

“Abbot Dreier?” General Dobson asked. “What are you doing here? We weren’t told to expect you.”

Ludwig Dreier calmly stared at the man, letting the silence grow uncomfortable. The general finally felt compelled to speak up again.

“As trusted an aide as you might be to Bishop Arc, he has left very specific instructions. I’m afraid that in his absence we can’t allow you to visit the citadel. So, if you would be so kind, please turn around and go back down into the city. You will find accommodations there. Better yet, you would be well advised to go home to your abbey and stay there until the bishop returns and summons you.”

“Or what?” Ludwig asked with a small smile. “You going to have your archers shoot me out of my saddle, are you?”

Unaccustomed to such a confrontation from the bishop’s abbot, the big general scowled. “If I have to. My orders are that no one is allowed to visit until further notice.”

“Ah, well then … probl

em solved.” Ludwig lifted an arm in a grand, sweeping gesture. “Notice is hereby given. Now, step aside, General.”

The man’s scowl deepened. To each side Ludwig saw all the bowstrings drawn back. He sat calmly, letting his horse paw at the wet cobblestones.

“I’m afraid that you don’t have the authority to give any such notice, Abbot.”

Ludwig readjusted himself in the saddle. “Well now, there you are simply wrong. You see, I am no longer the abbot serving the citadel. I am now Lord Dreier, and I am in charge at the citadel.”

“Lord Dreier?” the general asked with a derisive snort. “Lord Dreier! I don’t think so.”

Ludwig’s smile faded. “I suggest that you rethink it while you still can. You can either serve as my general in charge of my troops, or you will be replaced. Last chance given, General Dobson. Make your choice carefully.”

The burly general took a step forward and planted his fists on his hips.

“Or what?” He gestured up at Erika. “You will send your Mord-Sith down here to teach me to respect you?”

“Well, the thing is,” Ludwig said, almost apologetically, clearing his throat as he leaned down toward the man a bit, “Mistress Erika has been riding hard all day and I’m afraid that the poor girl is far too exhausted to climb down off her horse just to teach you some respect.” He turned to Erika. “Isn’t that right, my dear?”

Erika’s smooth face showed no reaction as she sat tall in her saddle while her horse danced around a little under her. “No, Lord Dreier, it isn’t.” She pulled her long blond braid over the front of her shoulder, stroking a hand down the length of it. “I am feeling quite fine and nothing would please me more than to dismount and teach this pig to show you proper respect.”

Ludwig held an arm out toward her as he spoke to the general. “There, you see? The poor girl is simply far too exhausted from her long ride to carry out such a chore.”